


Somewhere Among the Stars

by wolframbeta



Series: Like Water, Like Stone [1]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Destroy Ending, F/F, Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, Illustrations, Paragon Shepard (Mass Effect), Post-Canon, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-01-26 19:31:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 54,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21379375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolframbeta/pseuds/wolframbeta
Summary: In the aftermath of the Reaper War, theNormandyand her crew find themselves stranded on an uncharted world, uncertain about the fate of the rest of the galaxy they've left behind… including Shepard. For Liara T'Soni, leaving Petra Shepard behind means being burdened with a grief she thought she'd never have to endure again, when the future is so full of unknowns and the only comfort she can find, for now, is in the memories of her bondmate.
Relationships: Female Shepard/Liara T'Soni
Series: Like Water, Like Stone [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1541245
Comments: 84
Kudos: 77





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, and thanks for stopping by!
> 
> Before we get into the story, I would like to start out by mentioning that not only is this my first attempt at fanfiction, it's also my first attempt at picking up creative writing again after having set it aside for over ten years. I might be a little rusty… so don't judge!
> 
> Many of the chapters in this work will have illustrations, all of which are my own. While these images will be preserved should you choose to download this work for offline reading, please be aware that the workskin I made for formatting omni-tool/terminal/datapad messages will not be.
> 
> I also want to note the archive warnings and tags are correct to the very best of my knowledge (with emphasis on the _lack_ of Major Character Death), so interpret that how you will as far as spoilers are concerned. Graphic Depictions of Violence is specifically for a scene in Chapter 12; otherwise, canon-typical violence would likely suffice. And as a general content warning, this story contains discussion and depiction of heavy themes including (and I stress, _but not limited to_) suicide, mourning, PTSD, and depression. While these themes are present in the source material, I realize not everyone wants them in their fanfiction, so I feel it's important to mention.
> 
> Finally, I'd like to give a special thanks and shout-out to my beta, ferociousqueak ([AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ferociousqueak/) | [Tumblr](https://ferociousqueak.tumblr.com)), for kindly reading over my work and providing invaluable feedback. I would not have had the courage to post this story without you!

The hatch sealed with a thunk behind her, the clang of armor-clad knees against metal floor panels reverberating over the sound of her increasingly ragged breathing. Collapsed and trembling, gloved hands streaking indigo blood on the floor, she attempted to quiet her shaking breaths, tried to blink back the tears welling in her eyes, but between her physical injuries and a gnawing anxiety in her chest, all she could manage was a whimper.

Liara T'Soni was alone.

_Whatever happens… you mean_ everything _to me, Liara. You always will._

Echoes of Shepard's last words to her, the way her voice had broken, her gloved fingertips brushing across the same spot on her cheek now damp with tears, replayed with such lucidity she swore her nerves fired in response.

New tears stung as they streaked over her lacerated cheeks, dripping down with each convulsive sob and dotting the floor with wet stains — some clear, others mixed with blood. She had not been gentle in sending Garrus away after he escorted her to her quarters, waving away all attempts at concern, adamant in her refusal of medical attention as he implored her to reconsider. Her physical injuries were the least of her worries.

The room lurched and shuddered around her despite _Normandy_'s inertia dampening, and a wince turned to an outward cry — if not from the pain of sudden movement, then from being startled back into her own reality. The rumble of the drive core, the groan of the bulkheads, the rattling of her monitor array, the flicker of the lights — all served as reminders of where she was, but more so of where she was not.

She should be there with her.

It wasn't right.

Liara slumped, overcome with a fit of sobs. Clenched her fists, then unclenched them.

She had done what she could. There was nothing more she could do that would make a difference. Nothing left to do but survive.

Shepard would activate the Crucible, or she would not.

The ship lurched around her again, sending a stack of datapads crashing off her desk and throwing her off-balance. Liara gasped for air through choked sobs, barely managing to steady herself, pressing her palms into the floor. 

She should be there. With her. In success or in failure.

If the worst happened, was knowing any less painful than uncertainty?

Liara braced herself against the nearest server under her desk, attempting to stand, and she winced as her body protested the movement. Slowly she brought herself to her feet then limped the few remaining steps to the seat in front of her terminal.

Her fingers hovered over the keys, tremulous, hesitating. She typed her query. A distraction. Unnecessary. Shipboard visuals, aft and port. Two clusters of monitors nearest her brightened in dizzying flashes of blue, of red, of black with streaks of stars arcing with _Normandy_'s maneuvers — too overwhelming. She killed the process and the monitors went dark again.

Liara pressed her eyes shut and typed again. All updates concerning Shepard, from official and unofficial channels. She executed the command. The nearest monitor flashed on again, bright against her eyelids. She looked down at her hands, couldn't bring herself to look up. Another query. All updates from Alliance Command, set to another monitor. Her body shook with each heartbeat. Could she handle the news if it wasn't good?

Did it matter? Shepard would do what she could. Liara's role in the fight was over.

_Nothing left to do but to survive._

The transcripts appeared in real time on her monitors, ribbons of text blurred by the tears in her eyes. She blinked them away.

Braced herself for what she might read.

Blinked again. Then again. She drew in a shaking breath.

Shepard was on the Citadel. Alive.

Liara's heartrate surged along with a new flood of tears, and she sunk down with her face upon her desk, every piece of her overwhelmed with relief and fear and anticipation. Yearning. A kiss on the back of her neck. A cabin in the mountains. Little blue children. A family. A future. 

The room around her jerked again, vibration rumbling throughout the ship and sending shocks of pain through her left leg. She whimpered through shuddering breaths and gritted her teeth. 

Too soon to look forward. She wiped her eyes and looked at the feeds again. Shepard's status: unchanged. Official commands: also unchanged. _Normandy_ still circled the Crucible in a series of haphazard, unpredictable evasive loops, defending the galaxy's last stand against the Reapers (though she still preferred to do without the visual), among many other vessels tasked with the same, still waiting on Shepard's move. 

Liara considered administering a medi-gel dose, her body humming with pain, but thought better of it — there were others in greater need. She fought to relax the tightness in her chest, focused on settling and deepening her breathing, as the minutes stretched painfully on with no new information.

And then it happened.

With movement on the right-hand monitor she instinctively raised herself up, eyes snapping back into focus.

_Crucible has fired. All ships retreat. Fall back._ The message repeating.

Her chair fell back behind her as she shot to her feet, her left leg collapsing. She screamed. Fell forward onto her desk.

"We can't leave her!"

Liara regained her balance, brought up her omni-tool but fumbled with the controls. It didn't matter. No message she could send to Joker or to Kaidan would matter. They had their orders.

_They have to save her._

The familiar rising hum of the drive core signaled the imminent jump into FTL. 

Between gasping, crying breaths she heard her voice — strained, croaking, panicking, hardly recognizable as her own. "No, no, no…" 

The last of the data flashed on her screen as a sudden, momentary bout of vertigo overtook her. Earth, Shepard… everything that mattered to her plummeting away as her eyes scanned the text.

_Crucible fired. Explosion on Citadel. Casualties expected._

No more information. Any data traveling at light speed couldn't possibly reach them until they dropped out of FTL. And even when they did, how far away would they be? It could take years for that information to catch up. Decades. Longer.

What was happening back there? What happened on the Citadel? Did the Crucible backfire? Had their efforts succeeded? _Was Shepard alive?_

The world fell away from her, her throat tight and burning, her face locked in a scream but no sound escaping. It was over.

Shepard had done what she could to ensure the galaxy a future, to ensure _her_ a future, but how could she go on if she had no one to thank, no one to hold, but a ghost built of their memories?

How could she go on without her strength?

The memories would have to be enough.


	2. Chapter 2

_ **Three years, 10 months, and 10 days ago** _  
_ **17 January 2183** _  
_ **Normandy SR-1** _

Liara awoke with a start. She snapped upright and scanned her surroundings, heart pounding, biotics flaring.

It was an instinct that had served her well throughout the years while on remote digs, where posturing in a brilliant flash of blue was enough to avoid further confrontation in her rare run-ins with mercs, scavengers, or other miscreants — but at the moment was unnecessary. In place of the craggy cavern walls of her dig site on Therum was the stark metal and tile interior of the storage room behind _Normandy_'s med bay. She realized, then, that the electronic geth chatter that had jerked her out of sleep was only a figment of her nightmare, or some unfamiliar ambient sound from the ship filtered through a stressful dream. Sleep had taken her so readily she'd had little time to evaluate her situation. While she'd fallen asleep freshly hydrated and stuffed with nutrient bars, overwhelmed with relief following her improbable rescue, as she regained consciousness and slowed her breathing, uncertainty gripped at her. 

She brought up the time on her omni-tool. Synced to the shipboard clock, local time read 2047 — but when did she fall asleep, or come aboard for that matter? The memory of the events prior to her deep nap whirred in her mind in a foggy haze. She closed the display, the numbers meaningless, and slumped forward with her arms crossed in front of her. 

What an unpredictable, improbable day it had been. 

"I would assume you don't normally see much action of any sort in your line of work," Dr. Chakwas had said, easing Liara onto an examination table. "I'd be more surprised if this whole encounter didn't at least leave you a little shaken."

Liara gave a wry, exhausted smile, and leaned her weight into her arms, hands pressed into the edge of the bed. "I assure you Doctor, I am fine, but the commander insisted."

Dr. Chakwas made a sound of approval, or acknowledgment, Liara wasn't sure which. "Shepard looks after her crew, that's just what she does. Especially so for our civilian shipmates. Now," she said, and Liara straightened her sinking posture, "regardless of your own report, I do want to take a good look at you and perhaps get the story in your own words, if you'd so oblige me."

Liara told her. Unsure of how long she hung suspended in that bubble, waiting for the rescue she convinced herself would never come, and fuzzy on all details afterward, she recounted the last day (or two?… or three…?) as best she could, only pausing when Chakwas's examination required a response ("Does it hurt when I press here?") or otherwise interrupted her ("I need you to say _ahhh_").

"So I threw up a barrier and… and before I had time to think, it was over. The ruins were coming down, so we ran." 

Dr. Chakwas looked Liara over. Let out a short, breathy sigh. "How you managed to escape that situation," she said, after a moment, "with little more than a scratch or scuff is beyond me, and if I daresay, you were incredibly lucky." She stowed the small flashlight she'd been using in a drawer of exam supplies.

"I feel incredibly lucky." Liara gripped the edge of the bed again, shifted in her seat, still in disbelief of being able to do so and appreciating the tactile feedback of solid ground more than she thought possible. 

Dr. Chakwas nodded solemnly. Paused for effect, then said in a more chipper tone, "Well, Dr. T'Soni —"

"Liara, please."

"Well, Liara, I'm pleased to say that besides the obvious effects of dehydration and exhaustion, you appear to be in perfect health. That being said, we do need to address the dehydration before you retire for the night." She walked over to a nearby storage cabinet and produced two items, one in each hand. "Electrolyte drink, eezo-fortified, or the same as an intravenous drip, minus the flavor," she said, showing them both to Liara. "Take your pick, I'm feeling generous today."

"I think I would prefer to drink my fluids."

Chakwas nodded and put the IV bag away while grabbing another drink bottle. "And it saves you the inconvenience of being slightly less portable for the next few hours, though unfortunately now I won't get to poke you." She handed the bottles to Liara, who uncapped the first one and drank. 

"Thank you, Doctor," she said, after downing half the bottle.

"My pleasure, dear. I've kept you long enough, seeing as you are wilting before me." Liara reflexively straightened her spine again, but her eyelids drooped. "I believe Shepard has oh-so generously offered up my own medical storage room as your new makeshift quarters for the time being," Chakwas said, gesturing to the door. "I won't miss the space too much, but I do hope you find it comfortable enough. And if you need anything — anything at all — I think you know where to find me, so don't hesitate to ask. But until then, please, get some rest." 

And she did.

Until 2047, that is.

The uncertainty still gnawed at her, recounting the day's events, as she tried to collect her thoughts and shake away the lingering grogginess from her nap.

First, she reassured herself of her safety. Considering she'd resigned to perishing from dehydration as a best-case scenario mere hours before (she preferred not to think of all the other scenarios she'd ranked further down on the list, calculated and ordered with respect to both their likelihood and morbidity), she had a lot to be thankful for.

But her mother, allied with Saren? Geth beyond the Veil? None of it made sense. It turned her stomach. 

And the crew of this ship, while polite when required, stared a bit too intensely when they thought she wouldn't notice and whispered when they knew she was out of translator range. Their skepticism was justified, she reminded herself, but it made for a chilly welcome. 

And the commander, some sort of unstoppable, reckless force, taking out the krogan and all those geth like it was nothing. The kind of person to be touched by working Prothean technology and survive. 

It wasn't the sort of company she normally kept. 

She sat up straighter and swung her legs over the side of her cot.

At least she wouldn't be here long. The plan and timetable was unclear, but she recalled mention of returning to the Citadel to pick up supplies and, presumably, to drop her off. She could return to Thessia. Look for clues about her mother. Decide on a new direction for her research. Prothean beacons, and the commander's vision! If what she said was true… 

A knock at the door nearly made Liara fall off the edge of her cot.

"Doctor?" she wondered aloud, scooting off the bed to answer the door. No response. She'd spoken too quietly, then.

The knocking repeated.

"Come in!" she said, and the door swished open to reveal —

"Commander Shepard," Liara said, and she stiffened in a reflexive, but awkward, attempt to stand military-straight.

Further words escaped her, drowned out by an odd nervousness, then a realization. How exhausted she had been earlier — oblivious to the world around her and slouching from fatigue — that she failed to notice the commander was… not very tall. At 173 centimeters, Liara wasn't much taller than the average asari or human (woman), but standing face-to-face with Shepard — who stood in the doorway holding a tray of food — made it all the more obvious she had a good fifteen centimeters on her. 

"Please, um, come in." Liara grimaced, aware of her pause, and stepped aside and away from the doorway, seating herself cross-legged on her bed. She looked up at Shepard — albeit only in an approximation of proper eye contact — then down at her lap. "You came to check in on me?"

"I did. I was worried about you," she said. Matter-of-factly, but sincerely. Still standing by the door. "You look much better now."

"I just needed some rest." Liara exhaled, still looking down at her lap and trying her best not to start fidgeting.

Shepard stepped forward after a pause and offered the tray to Liara, who took it without looking up. 

"You missed dinner," Shepard said, pulling up a chair and straddling it. "And," she continued, picking up the mug of coffee she'd brought in for herself on Liara's tray, "I figured we could chat while you ate. Unless you'd prefer me to leave you alone. You're the boss."

Liara opened her mouth to ask why Shepard was drinking a beverage that would only serve to keep her awake at this hour, or to comment on the inherent contradiction of the commander referring to her as "the boss," but closed her mouth on both, the former untoward, the latter inane. There were some manners that crossed species' cultural gaps, and while most colloquialisms did not, she possessed at least a basic intuition regarding their use.

Liara set the tray on her lap. She had control of the situation, at least in theory, and could ask Shepard to leave if she wanted — could plead exhaustion, or another half-truth, so she could eat her meal in solitude. In theory. She fidgeted, hands tense and idle no longer gripping the sides of the tray. Even if Shepard's apparent concern for her well-being was genuine, surely it only served as a convenient way to obfuscate her true intentions, ones that would become clear if she were to stay and "chat." 

Was this the same uneasiness Liara had felt before? Her pulse slightly elevated because, even as she stared through (rather than at) the tray at her lap, Shepard's knee bounced idly in her peripheral vision, and the scent of her coffee wafting to her nose over the food in front of her, reminded her she was, right now, being watched? She _was_ tired, even if it only contributed in part to her inability to form a coherent or reasonable response, or know for certain if asking Shepard to leave was what she wanted to begin with. If Shepard really wanted information, or otherwise didn't trust her, she wouldn't have given her an option either way. _Not an interrogation_, Liara decided, but couldn't speculate further into Shepard's motives beyond simply being nice and offering a meal and company.

Liara picked up a fork. Scanned the unfamiliar offerings in front of her, no longer able to ignore her hunger. She did, after all, owe the commander at least a thank you.

"It's nothing special," Shepard said after a sip of coffee, "just leftovers from tonight. Main dish was meatloaf. My apologies. _Meatloaf_," she repeated with mock-scorn and a scoff, and took another drink of her coffee. "Beats nutrient bars, though, right?"

Liara could only nod, her mouth full of food.

"Commander?" she said, hesitantly, breaking the silence after finishing several more bites. "I do not think I ever properly thanked you for what you did for me."

Shepard shrugged and offered a quirk of a smile. "Just doing my job."

"I do not care to think of what would have happened if…" She picked up another bite of food with her fork. "I was thinking, what are the odds of things working out as they did?" 

"Exactly as they did? Infinitesimal." Shepard was silent for a moment. Took a slow drink of coffee. "I mean, I had some leads, and that helps in terms of those odds, but… look, I'm just glad we got you out of there. I also don't care to dwell on all the other things that could have happened, when what's important is that you're here, you're well, and you're able to tell me what you thought of that _meatloaf_."

Liara paused, her fork halfway to her mouth. Puzzled at Shepard's disdain. "I like it. Was I not supposed to?" 

"Maybe I'll repeat the question after you've eaten it twice a week for too many weeks to count." She gave another small, crooked smile.

Liara set her fork down. Chewed. Looked down, trying to conceal her surprise. Was Shepard implying that…? 

"I don't want to pressure you either way, but I wanted to give you an option. I meant what I said during the debrief. I think your knowledge of the Protheans would be invaluable, and we're going to be out there, in some pretty remote places, and we could find something of interest, not to mention the beacons, and this could be an opportunity for you. A big one. But…" She paused. Perhaps waiting for a response from Liara, or attempting to read her. Liara couldn't be sure, frozen and unable to even feign eye contact in the moment. 

Shepard eventually continued into Liara's silence. "I also don't want to put you in harm's way. Not that I don't think you're capable of defending yourself, but… you know the stakes. That's why I'm giving you the option. Our current schedule has us docking at the Citadel three days from now. So… keep me in the loop, okay?"

Liara forced herself to speak. "You… would have me stay."

"Only if that's what you want."

She picked up the glass of water on her tray and took a cautious sip, mouth gone dry. "I… I will have to think about it."

"Liara, look at me." Liara looked up at the space above Shepard's left shoulder. "_Only if that's what you want_," she said. Tone gentle, but serious. 

What was the right decision, with only three days to choose? She knew what she wanted. Come the end of those three days, they would dock at the Citadel, she'd say her final thank yous and farewells, and continue on the trajectory she'd been on for the past fifty years. She could mark these past few days as a minor blip and hope the nightmares of nearly meeting an untimely death would dissipate in the monotony of research and writing and not require too much therapy.

That was what she wanted.

There was no reason for her to want anything else.

"Hey…" Shepard reached out to give Liara's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cause you this much distress. I should go. I really should let you get some rest." 

Liara nodded wearily, halfway holding her breath, Shepard's hand still warm on her shoulder. She closed her eyes — needed, at the moment, to block out one sense, lest the simple feeling of physical contact send her into panic. "Thank you for dinner."

"I'm glad I could help." She took Liara's now empty dinner tray. Stood up, moved the chair back, judging by the scuffing along the floor. Hesitated by the doorway for a few seconds. "I'll see you tomorrow, Liara."

Liara waited for the door to close, leaving her alone, before she opened her eyes again. She sighed heavily, exhausted and feeling not quite herself. Her hand wandered to her shoulder.

Did there exist any emotional conflict, any inner turmoil, that wouldn't be cured or at least abated by good, quality sleep? She needed time to recuperate. These next three days would serve that purpose.

Then she would disembark once they reached the Citadel. She would purchase transport to Thessia. Collect her thoughts, plan her next research steps. 

She would not, under any circumstance, stop to wonder what trajectory her life would take otherwise: imagining herself part of a mission of galactic significance, following the woman touched by the Prothean beacon who saved her life against unfathomable odds.


	3. Chapter 3

She smelled like cedar and juniper.

Skimming the surface of restless sleep, their bodies pressed against each other, she smelled like cedar and juniper and like home, her warm embrace the only thing that made succumbing to sleep bearable when there was always so much left to do, always something that _shouldn't_ wait until the morning. It was hard to let go of the day's responsibilities, every task to aid in the fight against the Reapers a whisper at the back of Liara's mind, but Shepard could be so persuasive. They never slept alone anymore, to the benefit of both of them, when dreamless sleep was fitful and the nightmares, when dreams did visit, spilled into each other's heads. In times like these, whispered words and physical contact proved indispensable for calm and comfort when the terror inevitably woke them.

Liara came to shaking and sobbing, her pillow soaked with tears and a firm, assuring grasp on her arm. 

"Hey… it's okay… I'm here. You're okay." 

Shepard pulled Liara into a kiss, tender and slow.

"I'm sorry for waking you," Liara whispered, not quite allowing their lips to part.

"You didn't." She palmed Liara's cheek, wiping away some of the tears with her thumb, then brought her into another kiss. Wrapped her arms around her and held her. "I think that was mine this time."

Liara's mind, clouded and weary, didn't allow her to form a response. She drank in the comfort of the moment, reaching out to run her fingers through Shepard's hair, but her hand found nothing but the bedsheets beneath it. 

Her body twitched and she opened her eyes. 

She lay in a tangle of sheets, a bitter haze of ozone harsh upon her tongue and burning in her nose. Her breath came out in choked sobs before she could stop it, the sheets beneath her face — still damp but almost dry — and the painful grit in her eyes a confirmation that she had, in fact, been crying. That much, and only that much, had been real.

The space beside her on the bed was empty, her hand gripping at nothing but a fistful of bedsheets, the room dark save for the dim glow of emergency backup lighting.

Every convulsive sob sent her into fits of trembling, the pain of every injury she'd sustained in the final moments on Earth amplified and impossible to ignore. Strained muscles, bruised ribs. A deep and crushing ache in her left knee. Liara took another shaking breath, then another, unable to calm herself.

She wondered how long she had been asleep, how she had managed to fall asleep to begin with through a haze of pain, adrenaline, and fear, and _why sleep couldn't take her again_. Crushed by a weight of anguish she thought she'd never have to endure again, her mind grasping for any source of comfort possible, it was so easy to believe that Shepard was still there. Just got up out of bed to get a drink of water, she convinced herself — soon to lay back down beside her, wrap her arms around her, warm and familiar, comforting and right… 

She could feel it, almost believe it, until the waves of despair overwhelmed her once again and forced her to face the fantasy for what it was — only the whispered echoes of a dream. That this time, Shepard may never come back. The state of the galaxy, of the Reaper threat, contingent upon the success (or failure, or any possibility in between) of the Crucible. 

Liara had access to rudimentary communications aboard the _Normandy_. Her omni-tool alerted her that they were receiving no incoming, outside data via traditional comms. Several reasons for this came to mind, and none of them were good. Any news light-lagged, they sat isolated in an informational dark.

If the Reapers had, in fact, been defeated and — against all odds, _if_ — Shepard was still alive, would Liara even be able to find her?

There were so many unknowns, too many possibilities, all spinning around in her mind in a dizzying flurry, and if only she could think, if only she could ground herself as the world opened up beneath her, she could find the strength to take the next steps. She had to calm herself. Had to think. If anything, it was the only way to distract herself. 

Just breathe. Just think. She was good at thinking, at planning, at rationalizing. How otherwise had she coped before?

First off, where were they?

She tried to focus on what information she could ascertain without moving at all. Lack of light, eerie silence. The former indicated some sort of electrical failure (as did the smell), or that resources were being diverted. The latter, that they were grounded.

To gather any more information she would have to force her battered body to move. She was facing away from the window, and the darkness, she assumed, could mean several things. One, they were on a planet in a habitable zone, but it was night. Two, they were on an inhospitable planet, and they were dependent on ship life support. Three… that the damn window was still armored, the retractable bulkhead still shut from combat.

Taking a few more huffing sobs, she gritted her teeth and rolled over — slowly, gingerly — peeling off the sheet stuck to her face in the process, forehead and cheek sticky and stinging with the reopening of those wounds. She noted, also, that if this planet's gravity was significantly stronger than she was accustomed to, she wouldn't be able to tell. Every movement took _so much_.

The window, it happened, was still covered.

What difference did it make?

_Stop. Breathe. Think._

She brought up her omni-tool. Didn't want to know. No — had to know, had to push through the pain and apprehension from knowing in her gut the news was bad, but still holding on to a fragment of hope. She summoned a damage report.

They weren't spaceworthy. 

A cascade of error messages and alerts of critical system failures flashed before her in harsh reds and yellows and she waved the report away. Not good. She whimpered, panicking again as her fingers flicked at the interface trying to find some small glimmer of good news in the cold, indifferent data available to her. Backup systems read nominal and the shipboard VI was still online. She pulled up readings from outside sensors. 

Outside conditions: Earth-like atmosphere, Nitrogen-Oxygen composition; 1.1 atm; 18°C; 92% humidity, relative.

It wasn't enough. They weren't going to suffocate but the fact didn't make her breathe any easier, with so much she still didn't know and the weight of what she did know constricting her chest and crushing the last of her hope.

Did they land in an inhabited system? An uninhabited one? Were they safe? Capable of self-sustaining until they could repair the ship… if they could repair the ship?

Had the galaxy — had Shepard — succeeded? 

And at what cost? Could their homeworlds recover? Was this a future she wanted to live in? Gray skies and rubble and a bleakness even in a best-case scenario? 

Her omni-tool chimed a notification at her wrist. Not important, not now.

She tried to convince herself the new bout of sobs were only in reaction to her injuries. Breathing hurt, so she kept her breaths shallow. Rolling over had jostled her knee just enough to bring new, almost intolerable waves of pain. A spiraling, falling feeling overtook her again, despair and fear and grief welling up in her chest, and she would scream if she could, she would cry if she could, but her voice was stifled in a drowning flood of emotion, and her eyes seemed incapable of producing more tears.

Everything familiar, everything safe, destroyed and unrecognizable, and she couldn't shake it, couldn't shake the image from her mind she'd spent the last nearly three years fighting to forget, of the body in that stasis pod, of _we can bring her back_, of two years apart hoping and yearning but not fully believing, and then she was here, and goddess it was good, it was everything she'd ever wanted, their bodies intertwined, her embrace safe and warm and smelling of cedar and juniper… but now — but now, she couldn't shake the image of her, somewhere on the Citadel, cold and alone and unmoving — 

The chime sounded at her wrist again, followed by a tapping at her door.

Liara burst into motion — an impossible, haphazard charge — before she realized what she was doing. She couldn't face them. Couldn't face herself. 

"Liara, are you in there? Are you alright?"

_I'm sorry, Tali._

She could escape through the maintenance tunnels, the thought occurring to her a seeming second or two after she realized her fingers were already fumbling with the latches to the access in her room, her body burning with the exertion of her biotic charge and the continued effort to keep all weight off her injured leg. 

"Liara, open up." Kaidan, that time.

More knocking. "Liara, if you don't answer I'm bypassing the lock."

_Goddess, I am so, so sorry._ She undid the final latch, removed the grating, swung her legs over and into the now-exposed tunnel, and tipped forward in a flash of blue.

Floating downward, trembling, nauseated, the flare of her biotics reflecting off the ladder rungs, she waited for her right foot to contact the ground. In a few seconds she'd reach the engineering junction. She'd need to crawl several meters to the right. Climb — hover — two decks upward. She would reach the CIC, and by extension, the airlock.

The ground tapped against her boot and she dropped her biotic field — less gracefully than she intended, and suppressed a cry as she crumpled under gravity. Right turn. Crawl forward. Her breaths were ragged in her ears, her mind bursting with the pressure of the thoughts that she couldn't let herself think, not now. 

There was time. Her door was secure by necessity, and it would take time for Tali to bypass it. They wouldn't catch her. Wouldn't save her. 

She reached the end of the tunnel, adjusting her mass to hover upward as she kicked off the ground with her good leg. Dizzy, weak from the exertion. But so close. Would someone be there to stop her? Would someone be alerted that she'd triggered the airlock to cycle?

Her injured leg crashed against the ladder rungs as her field faltered. She fell several centimeters, crying out in pain, barely recovering. _Keep moving. Don't think._ Her head felt about to burst and her extremities tingled — she was hyperventilating, and ascending faster than was wise. Narrowly avoiding hitting her head on the surface above her, she pulled herself into the horizontal crawl space, fumbled with the last set of latches, popped the grating off, and scanned her surroundings before charging the few remaining meters to the airlock. 

She slammed the button to close the inner door and start the cycle to equalize pressure. Collapsed against the wall and squeezed her eyes shut. Braced herself.

The outer door opened almost immediately.

She took in a gasping breath and leapt down. 

The _Normandy_ sat perched atop a rocky hill amidst a tropical landscape, and before her, stretching forward as far as she could see, was a reaching expanse of rainforest layered in early-morning fog. Cool air whipped at her face, heavy with moisture, as she struggled to alter her mass appropriately, hurtling down and forward in spurts of erratic velocity. Ten stomach-turning seconds later her feet hit solid ground. She crumpled, forward momentum sending her tumbling over the edge of the embankment before her, and she skid to a halt as her vision went dark.

⁂

It was fortunate there was no rushing torrent of water to sweep her away.

The river trickled by only several inches deep around where she landed, supine and unconscious with limbs splayed out, on a bed of smooth rocks.

Liara started at a chiming at her wrist. Panted, gasped for air as her awareness returned, her vision flashing with the pain in her leg. She lay unmoving, the minutes blurring as she merged with the cool water around her, the world gray and green and hazy. A new stinging and crushing pressure pulsed through her crest.

Her omni-tool chimed again to remind her of missed messages.

With hands trembling so violently as to render them almost useless, she brought up the glowing display, powered down the unit, and detached its physical component from around her wrist. From a well of grief she drew the last bit of strength she knew she could muster, felt her body warm as she wrapped herself in a blaze of blue, and threw the device as far as she could, charging in the opposite direction, away from the _Normandy_, deeper into the forest, until her vision blurred and blotched with her fading awareness and everything around her slipped away.


	4. Chapter 4

_ **18 January 2183** _  
_ **Normandy SR-1** _

0452.

It was too early to be awake.

With a flick of her hand, Liara waved away her omni-tool's time display, the glowing digits dissolving into the pitch dark of the medical storage room. Getting more rest seemed wise, as well as a sensible way to pass the time, but instead of rolling over to find a more comfortable position, fluffing her lumpy pillow, and pulling her blankets up over her head to warm up in this slightly-too-cold space, she found herself propped up on her elbows, staring into the dark as if her eyes could somehow adjust and make sense of her surroundings despite the lack of light. As if her mind could somehow make sense of the similar, inscrutable density of intertwined thoughts and worries and emotions amassing in her mind.

Liara sighed, then sat up in her cot in the same cross-legged position she'd adopted after greeting Shepard in her room less than twelve hours prior. She folded her arms in front of her and frowned.

Though she'd slept adequately without further disturbance from nightmares, she couldn't help but feel disappointed when that nagging, nervous feeling squirmed in her stomach again, one she'd assumed last night to be an understandable response to her precarious circumstance, residual waves of adrenaline to be calmed after a meal, some rest, and assurance that the worst was over. She'd been certain, really, that a good night's sleep would bring her more clarity and ease her worries. It always had before.

Why didn't it now?

She'd always had a knack for rationalizing away her worries, for compartmentalizing troubles she had no immediate or direct control over and prioritizing those she did. And if active problem-solving ever proved ineffective, she could count on a more passive approach, delegating difficult problems to her mind's subconscious processes. She could always trust dream-Liara to at least make a good effort at sorting things out. 

While her concern for her mother, as well as for her own well-being given the events that led her aboard, were obvious, she recognized that something deeper was bothering her — something amorphous and unidentifiable lurking in the depths of her mind. And if, like the room she sat in, she could simply switch on a light, all would be clear and logical in its illumination. If only it were that easy.

She took a deep breath in and closed her eyes. Thought back to the previous night, scanned her memories for a moment where her emotions reached levels of potency she found uncomfortable, and honed in. She imagined the weight of a tray of food on her lap again, the taste of meatloaf, the smell of coffee, tried to reproduce the constellation of details that would reveal the source of her concern, apparently buried and hidden as it was in her subconsciousness.

She found, however, she could not pinpoint it.

While she could stew in it, could mentally rearrange the furniture or reimagine smells and tastes and sensations in various combinations, the effort would likely be wasted. She felt weird and didn't know why. _No use dwelling on it_, she told herself. _It doesn't have to make sense._

Liara sighed again and brought up her omni-tool. If returning to sleep wasn't an option and wouldn't sufficiently calm her mind, there was always more focused distraction. 

Had she been out on one of her excursions, she would have set her electric kettle to boil water to make tea and to reconstitute dehydrated rations while reading over her notes from the previous days' work. While she'd been fortunate enough to have saved a copy of her notes and raw data from Therum to her 'tool's local storage before being faced with a test of true survival instincts, her trusty tea set, unfortunately, had been left behind with the rest of her belongings at her camp. All would have to be replaced once she disembarked. Not a huge inconvenience, all things considered, though not only had the hi-tech kettle been a splurge, she was missing it right about now.

Resigned to have to do her morning reading without a warm, lightly caffeinated beverage, she went to tap the virtual folder containing her notes, but stopped at a notification showing unread messages. She tapped the blinking indicator to read more.

  
Delivered: Yesterday, 22:03  
From: P Shepard  
Subject: Schedule for you!!

Hey Liara,  
I think this is the right address for you. Just sending our schedule for the next few days. You're welcome (encouraged) to join us for meals and PT. I can't imagine medical supplies make good company. Hope to see you soon!  
-Shep  


Liara swiped the message away along with her omni-tool's glowing interface with more vigor than was strictly necessary, as if the words would burn if she didn't banish them away or avert her eyes quickly enough.

She leaned forward, brow furrowed, elbows on her knees and chin resting on her fists.

It was going to be a long three days.

She weighed her options. Dr. Chakwas had been kind enough to see that her new living space had been stocked with a variety of food and personal care items, so in theory, it wouldn't be necessary to leave the storage room often (or the med bay ever) until their arrival at the Citadel. Isolation and nutrient blocks for every meal she was already well accustomed to, anyway, though she preferred more opportunities to get her hands dirty. And tea. But otherwise, the plan was comfortable, safe, and predictable. 

Without thinking, she brought up the message from Shepard again. Opened the attached schedule.

Today began with breakfast from 0700 to 0745, and PT from 0800 to 1000.

She scrunched her face. Still quite a bit of time until breakfast.

She hopped off her cot, flipped on a light, and went to rummage through the box of nutrient bars and energy gels.

Hungry and antsy would have to be taken care of, for now, with NutriBlock (peanut butter flavor, now made with real peanuts!) and pacing in the limited space of her room.

She peeled open the bar's packaging and gnawed off a chewy, bland corner. Either meal replacements of any origin were universally terrible, or the peanut butter she'd tried years before had been adapted to suit an asari palette, as many off-world imports were. Finishing the bar would be tedious, but a task she was determined to complete. She took another bite, eyes lingering on the chair Shepard had sat in last night.

Her hand went to itch at her shoulder.

One week ago, had Liara been asked if she was content to spend the next three days holed up and bored, she would have responded in the affirmative. Besides, she knew herself. Knew that was the answer she would have given. Always partial to introspection and analysis, she'd find ways to pass the time. But something had changed.

Was it a consequence of staring death in the face? Of being confronted with new, exciting, terrifying ideas about the galaxy she lived in, and the implications of such ideas on her own research? Of discovering her mother — steadfast, brilliant, politically adept — had somehow lost her way? 

Maybe she wasn't containing her emotions to a degree she found satisfying, but she took comfort in the confirmation that her agitation was justified, that at least she wasn't going totally insane. Anyone who'd dodged that many bullets and been faced with so much weighty news would feel the same, she thought.

But right now, faced with such a simple decision — stay in, or mingle with the crew — she found her indecision in itself entirely frustrating and illogical. She knew herself — one-week-ago-Liara would not have had to deliberate on this. Would have happily sat tight in these shabby, makeshift quarters without a second thought.

She didn't want to leave this room, but at the same time, sitting and thinking and pacing and sleeping and chewing on flavorless processed food didn't seem like the right decision. Shepard was right. She'd get bored, and real peanuts or not, these nutrient bars barely passed as edible, bland and prone to gluing her mouth shut.

She rubbed her shoulder. Sat down on her cot again.

She would join them for breakfast!

Or, she would not.

She exhaled noisily as she tipped onto her back, one leg still dangling off the edge of the bed and the taste of "real" peanut lingering on her tongue. 

Like all things, she would have to think about it — at length.

At least the most important decision required of her here had already been taken care of.

⁂

Four hours and thirty-eight minutes later Liara awoke to a tapping at her door.

Unaware she'd fallen asleep, she sat upright and rubbed her eyes, her grogginess giving way to nerves as she rolled off her cot and tiptoed to the door. She went to open it but hesitated, not entirely sure who she'd find on the other side. 

Taking a deep breath, Liara opened the door.

She exhaled, blinking a few times in the flood of bright, clinical light. Obscuring her eyes with her hand, trying to find her words beneath an odd rush of dissatisfied relief and tiredness, she mumbled sheepishly, "Dr. Chakwas. Good morning."

Cup of tea in one hand, datapad in the other (in the classic multitasking fashion), Dr. Chakwas's eyes widened in surprise. "Good morning to you as well, and my apologies. I didn't mean to wake you. I only wanted to check to make sure everything was alright, seeing as you've missed breakfast."

"Everything is fine," Liara said, a bit tightly, wondering how haggard she looked even with her face half-obscured. She squinted, lowering her hand. "I did not mean to oversleep."

Dr. Chakwas tucked the datapad she held under her arm and clasped her tea mug with both hands. She took a good look up and down at Liara through narrowed eyes. "You probably needed the rest." She looked as if she were about to say more, staring through Liara as she was — either passing judgment on Liara's sleeping habits or seeing through her fib — but she did not.

Liara exhaled, a failed attempt at deep breathing to ease the tension creeping into her shoulders, but her breath shuddered a bit. Her thoughts flitted around in search of something reasonable to say. "You have tea," she blurted, and cringed at herself. 

The doctor seemed taken aback, but the expression was fleeting and dissolved into something softer. She set her datapad and mug aside. "I do, and I can make more. Liara, are you sure you're feeling alright? You're shaking. Why don't you sit down a minute."

Before Liara could argue there was a hand at her elbow guiding her to the nearest bed, and she sat, balling her fists, face turning an obvious shade of purple as she cursed herself and cursed the storm within her she thought she could contain and ignore but no, she wasn't successfully doing either, and it was leaking regardless of whether she chose to acknowledge it. 

Dr. Chakwas having left the room, presumably to retrieve the promised tea, Liara buried her face in her hands and slumped. Ashamed of how stupid and transparent she was being and of how conflicted she was on things she shouldn't have ever been conflicted on and so much more that she wasn't ready to admit to herself. 

She estimated she had about five minutes maximum to fabricate a story to justify the agitation Dr. Chakwas found so obvious. There was no reason for her to have been so nervous, but the fact that the doctor noticed only served to amplify it. A simple tap at her door had immediately sent her heart pounding… because it could have been Shepard? It didn't make sense. Shepard was intimidating, yes, but had shown her nothing but kindness and courtesy in her short time here, so any fear of her would be irrational — though she couldn't discount it. The matter of the beacon was a distinct academic curiosity but didn't account for such a strong emotional response.

The door to the med bay opened, Dr. Chakwas having returned with Liara's tea. Liara looked up once the footsteps stopped in front of her and straightened slightly from her deflated pose. She took the steaming mug the doctor offered and held it near her lap, watching the steam rise and disperse and the reflections of the lights shimmer in the liquid.

Dr. Chakwas found a seat across from her, crossed her legs, and clasped her hands in her lap. "It wouldn't take a doctor, or even someone particularly observant, to tell that something is bothering you, my dear. I won't pry if you don't want me to, but if you want to talk, I'm all ears."

Liara opened her mouth to speak. Shook her head. Raised her cup of tea and blew on it, then adjusted her grip on the mug. Tried to decide on the words she would speak, but all of them tasted off when she tried to silently form them, and she was sure her tea was too hot to drink yet to wash it away. Honesty was still an option, albeit a difficult one, confounded as she was by her own feelings.

Dr. Chakwas spoke into Liara's hesitation. "It's fine if you'd rather not divulge whatever your demons may be to a stranger — medical professional or not — I just wanted you to know the option is there."

Liara blew on her tea again, then lowered it, shaking her head again. "I would tell you, Doctor, but I am not sure I know myself."

Dr. Chakwas gave an amused _hmph_. "I don't mean to offend, but I find it somewhat difficult to believe you wouldn't have at least some idea, though I'll have to take your word for it. You seemed fine when we spoke yesterday. Shepard give you a hard time?" Her expression and inflection indicated she wasn't being entirely serious.

"No, no," Liara said, flustered, stalling and realizing she'd almost spilled her tea. She tried a sip and scalded her tongue, only increasing her intensity. "No. She just… I was not… I was not expecting to be given the option to stay, I thought — I thought I was not trusted here, I thought she did not believe my story that I have not been in contact with my mother, and that she was coming to interrogate me." She paused, cringing at herself and her stuttering string of words, and looked down at her tea again. "I am not staying."

"But the decision has obviously caused you some distress."

"No," Liara said, staring into her tea. "No, it has not."

"Liara, I don't know if anyone has ever told you this — and I beg you don't take offense, because it's not necessarily a bad thing — but I don't think telling a convincing lie is one of your strong suits."

She sighed, looked up at the doctor, and said, keeping her inflection bland, "I have decided I would rather not stay, Doctor. The decision is final, and not causing me distress."

"But if I'm reading you correctly, you seem like you're still trying to convince yourself of it."

Liara sat in silence for a few seconds, staring at nothing in particular.

"I am correct, am I not?"

Liara hung her head. "I didn't want to admit it to myself."

"Care to be more specific?"

"When she… when she gave me the option to stay last night, I made an immediate decision that I would not." She looked down at her tea, raised her cup to take a drink but stopped. "It's strange, but I think being in such danger changed me in some way. It seems reckless, but some part of me does want to stay. It's… an opportunity for study I will never have again. But…" She shook her head again. "It feels like I don't know myself."

"Well, I'll have you know I won't pressure you either way. However, I'm sure Shepard would be delighted to have you stay, from what she's said," Dr. Chakwas offered pleasantly.

"She…" Liara stopped herself before she could ask what was said about her. Shifted the topic. "I did not anticipate having to reconsider my decision. What am I supposed to do when the time I need to think does not exist?"

"I don't take you as the type to follow your heart, so follow your intuition. Trust your gut. Take the plunge."

They sat in silence for several moments, Dr. Chakwas reading on her 'pad, Liara drinking the tea that had finally cooled to a palatable temperature.

"Feeling at least a little better?"

"Yes." A thought struck her. "I need to do something. Doctor, if it is not too odd a request, are there any menial chores you have been putting off? I need to channel… whatever this is into something more productive. Something do to with my hands while I think."

⁂

Several hours later, Liara stared at the ceiling of her dimly lit room, running the backside of her hand against the metal wall panels, focusing in on the ever present hum of the ship's drive core and the smell of cleaning solvent in the dehumidified and recycled air. Without looking, she could visualize the contents of all the shelves and boxes around her — the quantities, the shapes, the colors of all the myriad bottles and jars, their contents and labels organized and categorized in her mind as well as in the physical space around her.

Readily accessible were medical supplies in their sterile packets, tools and bandages of all sorts in neat stacks, and an extensive array of vials and bottles of medications, tidied and resorted and expired ones discarded. Underneath the desk, packed away in cases, sat hundreds of old storage disks, alphabetically sorted, some past patient records, others data and academic papers long forgotten and deprecated. 

On the desk, two computers now functioned instead of just one — the old, neglected model needed some software tinkering, but it was now usable, for whatever that was worth. It had at least given her a final task with which to occupy her mind and hands once the rest of the room could not be any cleaner.

The computer had a clunky physical keyboard in place of a near-ubiquitous (and far more customizable) holographic one, but it at least meant she needn't put on her haptic gloves while she tried to resurrect the piece of tech that would have otherwise been deemed scrap hardware. It also meant the available keyboard mapping for Thesserit [1] was cumbersome and required frequent use of modifier keys to accommodate the larger alphabet, though any of her other native dialects would have been worse in that regard. A couple hours later the computer was up and running, albeit sluggishly and probably not to see much further use. 

Liara had smiled in satisfaction, having achieved something tangible in the now-spotless space around her — and having successfully distracted herself from further worrying and passed the time, mulling over her situation now and then — and went to power down the computer but stopped.

A sudden curiosity struck her, and she froze for a moment before acting on it, as if the trickle of thoughts would pass. The keys made a dull clicking sound as she typed her search, averting her eyes as if she sought privileged information.

Liara glanced back at the screen, the limited series of relevant entries stacked before her. She selected the first one. 

There was a short news article, dated 2177, and its accompanying vid.

50 Dead in Akuze Thresher Maw Attack, Sole Survivor Recounts Tragedy, Survival  


Liara hardly listened to the words she spoke. Shepard's voice was a practiced monotone, her expression betraying no emotion during the short interview. There was nothing about her tone or affect to suggest anything other than mild discomfiture. But when her eyes flicked to the camera, then away — the most fleeting, inconsequential, involuntary action — it caught Liara off guard, as if the virtual connection of their gazes offered a brief but potent glimpse into her mind, the twinge of sorrow she felt in response to her glance overpowering whatever attempt she'd made at convincing herself she was watching with casual disinterest.

Shepard looked different. Besides the thin strip of dressing covering an obvious gash above her left eye, it was difficult to pinpoint exactly what it was, difficult to discern what minute changes to her features could have contributed. She'd worn her hair differently back then, slightly shorter so as to be almost bald, whereas now it was a couple centimeters at its longest. A small change, but perhaps it was that. Or, perhaps the amount of time that had passed since the vid was recorded was significant enough on a human scale to make the sort of difference Liara perceived. She couldn't be sure.

It would be best to stop letting her imagination run rampant.

The short clip played several times before Liara tore her eyes from the screen. She shut down the computer, laid down on her bed. For a while focused on other things, but what she'd seen buzzed in the back of her mind like an elusive fly she couldn't quash.

She ran her hand over the scuff on the wall beside her, memorizing the rough pattern and mapping the tactile data to the visual representation in her mind's eye. A few centimeters aside, she felt the small seam in the wall where the panels fit together, fingertips tracing along the smooth line.

She thought again of the gash through Shepard's brow. Wondered if the wound had healed well and any scar that still remained was too faint to notice, or if she really had avoided eye contact so thoroughly that noticing hadn't been possible. 

After a deep breath in, then out, she sat up in her cot and compared her surroundings against the one she held in her memory. 

Almost a perfect match.

It had been so easy to disregard what she believed to be a foolish course of action, so easy to pretend that the feelings stewing within her didn't matter. Maybe the events on Therum changed her. Maybe she was being ridiculous. Yet Dr. Chakwas had seen through her — to feelings that, perhaps, were too strong a storm to reasonably contain at all — and there was something tempting about following an uncharted path.

But the decision would have to be made on a very short — very human — time scale. Presented with two paths, she'd closed off one path yesterday, but now the way to both stood clear again. She was torn. Not enough time to truly contemplate, so she'd have to take a risk. 

What did Shepard have in mind when she offered her a position aboard this ship? What did they expect to find out there? There wouldn't be time for long-term excavation projects, and the thought of stumbling by happenstance upon major remnants of Prothean civilization not already thoroughly scavenged or otherwise destroyed seemed absurd.

Still, she made a mental note of what equipment she'd need to replace. Tools to aid in collection and archiving of any samples she may need to obtain in the field. And with transport already taken care of — remote worlds were often off-limits due to the time and credits it would take to get there — it was possible they would find something of interest, however improbable. Not having control over her next destination may even work in her favor. Discovering something unexpected in a place she would not have predicted herself could open up new research avenues. 

Her mind couldn't help but linger on the fact that one of the most unique specimens she'd ever encountered was aboard this very ship.

⁂

At 1832, there was a knock at the door again.

Sitting at her desk, lost in an endless trail of research and reading, Liara winced when she realized the time. She didn't immediately rise from her seat, powerless to control the jump in her heartrate because this time there was no question who she'd be greeting at the door, and why. She'd missed dinner again.

Looking away from her reading, she frowned, counted to five, then went to open the door.

She pressed the pad, and the door slid open.

"Hey… I'm not intruding, am I?" 

Liara blinked, wide-eyed. Shepard stood in the doorway precariously balancing two dinner trays, the now dim and empty med bay behind her, Dr. Chakwas having apparently retired for the night.

Liara looked down and away, a flush rising in her cheeks. "I'm sorry, I did not mean to miss dinner again," she said, and while she could hope all she wanted that whatever this strange response was wasn't outwardly obvious, if she learned anything from her interaction with Dr. Chakwas this morning it was that her emotions were on full display despite her attempts to hide them. 

Shepard made a small sound in her hesitation to speak. "Is everything alright?" she said, her voice an odd combination of gentle but strained as she struggled to keep the trays she held level, the sound of plates, cups, and utensils sliding and rattling around intermixed with her cursing under her breath. 

Liara's mind spun, grasping for any vaguely sane response and trying to get her voice to work, when she realized in a comical repeat of yesterday's encounter she was lagging and in the way again. She shuffled aside, mortified, her cheeks warming further as she watched Shepard carefully set the trays on the desk out of the corner of her eye. 

"I didn't mean to barge in like that, it's just, you know." Shepard chuckled, if a bit awkwardly, a small, lopsided smile forming as she picked up the napkin on her tray and wiped away a bit of spilled coffee. "I meant to ask sooner if it was okay if I joined you for dinner but I was too busy outsmarting gravity and making sure these sandwiches didn't turn into floor sandwiches. So, um." She cleared her throat and said with mock formality, "Dr. T'Soni, is it okay if I join you for dinner?" 

"I… sure?" Liara sucked inwardly on her lips before they could curl into an involuntary smile, certain that the resulting expression looked odd paired with her unshakable tension. She'd spent all day fretting over having to interact with Shepard — certainly she was intimidating in theory — only to find her quirky humor so immediately disarming, even as her body still vibrated with nerves.

Liara sat down in the chair in front of her terminal, the paper she'd been reading still up on the screen.

Shepard sat down in the other chair and scooted one of the trays toward Liara. "I regret to inform you it's not meatloaf this time," she said. "Sandwich, a noble food. It has layers. And, uh, fruit salad, but not the good kind." 

Liara couldn't seal her lips tightly enough overpower a smile, and laughing through her nose, a new flush washed over her cheeks. She looked away from the plate of food in front of her (attempting to figure out the correct method with which to eat it) and glanced over toward Shepard, attempting to obscure her smile with the back of her hand hovering over her lips.

"I do apologize for laughing, but sometimes the things you say make no sense."

Shepard grinned widely, elbow on the table and head leaning against her hand. "'Sometimes'?" She picked up her sandwich, and Liara took it as her cue to do the same. "I take offense at that. I'm a fountain of nonsense of the purest variety. Anything intelligible in there? Who knows! It's undetectable by our current technology." She took a bite and Liara mirrored through another stifled laugh.

"In all honesty though," she said, after she'd finished her first bite, a change in her demeanor that made Liara shrink a little. "I just wanted to make sure you're okay. Even if you choose not to stick around after we dock, I'd like you to be comfortable. You looked like you were about to cry when I walked in." 

Liara looked toward Shepard again — mouth full of her second bite of her sandwich, unable to speak but able to study her face. Perhaps it was the angle of the lamplight that made it more clear, but the scar she'd been wondering about, the one she hadn't noticed (or allowed herself an opportunity to notice) had healed neatly, but obviously, leaving a pronounced gash through her left eyebrow. 

It was that curiosity about her that had led her to look into her history, she couldn't deny it any longer, that she was the closest to a firsthand source of information on the Protheans as she'd ever encountered and that fascinated and excited her. She shouldn't have survived her contact with the beacon at all, and even though she did, she shouldn't have survived with her mind intact. An anomaly, according to all the papers she'd read speculating on the technology, and she couldn't help but wonder about all the factors that led to her being able to sit here, cracking jokes, showing her a gentleness that didn't make sense, apparently undamaged by her past. She didn't know whether to be frightened by that or not, knowing that somewhere beneath her outer layers, a memory of that past still remained, wondering how many layers she'd have to peel away before…

"Something on your mind?"

Staring, and hadn't realized it. Liara pulled herself out of her thoughts. Shook her head. Glanced back toward the documents she still had open on her terminal, if only to hide the fact that her cheeks were flushing with embarrassment again. 

"Pardon me if I'm asking outside of office hours, but care to share what you're working on?"

A relief, really, that she could steer the conversation to a more familiar topic, but she was walking a fine line that, if crossed, would easily fall into uncomfortable territory.

"I was just doing some reading." Liara paused, looked to her terminal. Took a breath. "'An Invaluable Data Mine and a Window to the Past, or a Futile Endeavor?: Understanding Prothean Communication and Beacon Technology, a Preliminary Model from a Multidisciplinary Perspective.' It's considered a seminal paper, combining the fields of archaeology, neuroscience, and xenobiology, but there is still much that is only speculation, piecing together information from the limited artifacts available. Now that…" She stopped herself before mentioning Shepard's encounter. "It has been a while since I have read it, and I thought now was as good a time as ever to review it more critically."

"Because of my encounter with the beacon," Shepard said thoughtfully.

"Correct." Abashed, not turning to face her, Liara picked up her fork as if to sample some of the fruit salad. "I still find it remarkable that —" She shut her mouth on the thought. 

Shepard was silent for a moment. "Go on."

"I still find it remarkable, your encounter with the beacon." Her eyes scanned Shepard's face again, resting for too long on her left eyebrow. She turned her attention back to her food. "I find that… fascinating."

"You find me fascinating." Shepard crossed her arms, gave a quirk of a smile. "Sounds like you want to dissect me in a lab somewhere."

"What? I didn't mean to insinuate that… it's just unprecedented — you would be an interesting specimen for an in-depth study — oh, no, that's even worse."

"I was _joking_, Liara."

"Right." She exhaled a breathy chuckle, shook her head. Searched for the correct words. "What I really meant to say was it is incredible you survived with your mind intact. It should not have been possible, according to the research, as Prothean technology was obviously not designed with your physiology in mind."

Shepard stared wistfully, Liara thought, taking in the gravity of the situation, in being an outlier, a point not predicted by any available model. "Who knows, maybe I _am_ only a fraction of what I used to be, and you wouldn't know I was a raging super genius because you didn't know me then." 

"You are impossible."

Shepard fell back into that same, casual position, leaning with her elbow against the desk, studying Liara with an unreadable expression. "I'm afraid I'm about to make you uncomfortable again. I feel bad because you seemed so lively and in your element just now."

Liara froze, her fork clinking against the bowl as she stabbed a piece of fruit. "Go ahead."

"Have you given any more thought about staying?"

Relieved, Liara sighed. "I have."

"And?"

"And what?" she deflected.

Shepard scoff-laughed. "Look, if you really want to prove you don't belong here, why don't you come down and join us tomorrow morning for PT. If your biotics suck ass, or if you pretend they suck ass just to stick it to me because _I already know they don't_, you can hop off my ship when we get to the Citadel, and I'll get to pretend I won't miss your brains." 

"I thought you said you weren't going to pressure me," Liara said, hiding her smile again.

"I'm not pressuring you! I'm just feeding you more data. You're the one who gets to decide what to do with it."

Liara stared, focusing on nothing particular, overwhelmed once more by the strange storm of emotions that had given her no respite since coming aboard.

Shepard stirred and rose from her seat. "I'm afraid I have work to do otherwise I'd stick around. Finish your sandwich. I fed you your data, but it doesn't have the calories you'll need for tomorrow. See you then?"

Liara hesitated. Finally gave a small nod, not knowing what else would constitute an appropriate response, feeling a wave of relief in having survived yet another encounter.

⁂

Liara woke the next morning, far too early once again.

She sat at her terminal, reading, nibbling through a nutrient bar labeled "strawberry banana," though its flavor bore only passing resemblance to either. More like memories of strawberries and bananas, which would be fitting, seeing as it had been several years since she'd tasted real versions of either type of fruit. Imported produce, while wildly popular, could be unnecessarily overpriced, and locally cultivated varieties just didn't taste the same. 

She thought back to last evening, never having admitted outright to Shepard that she'd already made her decision. It almost didn't seem real, settling on such a radical choice so soon and of her own volition. While it was indeed a risk, she hoped it was a calculated one. Being inexplicably drawn to a course of action was one thing. Living in its reality was another.

Unfortunately, lost in thought and artificial flavors, she didn't realize she'd missed official breakfast again, and not only that, but she was about to be late for the PT session Shepard requested she'd join. 

Liara rushed out of her room, greeting Dr. Chakwas with brief pleasantries before exiting the med bay and running to the elevator.

She punched the key pad and the door closed in front of her with a thunk.

What did she think she was doing?

She leaned against the metal interior of the elevator, cold and rumbling against her crest. Why was she here, and not back in the safety of her room? How impressionable had she become that at the slightest suggestion she would do whatever Shepard told her, regardless of whether it was only a suggestion to begin with, or if she was technically under her command?

The elevator's descent gave her enough time to change her mind, but it was too late to override it and run the other way.

Given any extended amount of time to think, she would revert back to fretting. She chastised herself, having already been through this last evening, but she still couldn't shake her growing apprehension. Shepard clearly wanted her to stay. Every moment Liara spent near her only served to amplify her intense academic curiosity. Was she afraid of her because of or in spite of it?

Her heart raced in her chest again, a familiar but inopportune sensation she was readily growing accustomed to. As with burying her thoughts on her desire to stay — even from herself — she figured she best be honest about other things. Feelings she couldn't quite acknowledge without wanting to shake them out through her ears. She had to admit to herself that… 

The elevator drew to a halt with a rumble and the door opened to a cacophony of shouting and banging echoing through the large, open space of the cargo hold.

Several groups congregated throughout, the nearest and smallest of which was composed of a human and a krogan — both of whom she recognized from the mission debrief she'd attended after her rescue — engaged in biotics practice. On one end of the hold, another group for marksmanship (responsible for the majority of the noise) and one general fitness, judging from the array of gym equipment in use at the far end of the room. There, running on a treadmill, she found Shepard.

"Looks like the T'Soni kid decided to join us," the krogan boomed, and she jumped.

She thought there was an almost imperceptible pause in the noise, as eyes darted in the direction of the krogan's announcement to ogle at the T'Soni interloper who'd interrupted their practice, but it was only a feeling — probably the blood rushing to her head — her attention split between the krogan staring her down with a taunting smirk (though she was far from proficient at reading krogan facial expressions) and Shepard jogging straight toward her from across the hold. 

Liara wasn't sure where to look, but staring down the krogan — Wrex, she finally remembered — seemed preferable as Shepard approached quickly out of the corner of her eye. _Should turn to greet her_, she thought, suddenly tense and frozen. _Act normal._

"Didn't see you at breakfast," said Shepard, panting from exertion, wiping the sweat from her brow. "Everything good?"

"I…" Liara began but found her tongue stumbling over her words and unable to produce sound, much like the effect a mouthful of those terrible nutrient bars would have. A warm embarrassment rose in her cheeks as if all attention was on her again, but when she looked away from Shepard, swiveled around and scanned the room with wide and darting eyes, everyone was back to their own tasks. "I ate four nutrient blocks," she managed to blurt.

Shepard raised her eyebrows, chuckled, shook her head. "That's great!" she said, her tone somewhere between enthusiasm and sarcasm, or playfulness and concern, Liara couldn't tell. 

Her eyes didn't know where to settle again, though she felt them linger too long on all the features compression shirts accentuated or otherwise didn't do a good job of hiding — which was everything, really, but she wasn't looking. She focused in on the space above Shepard's left shoulder — a bit above eye level, high enough so that her actual shoulders were no longer a distraction — where she could see the human biotic lifting what appeared to be a very heavy crate about ten meters off the ground.

Shepard leaned in slightly and lowered her voice. "Liara, I was only teasing. I don't want you to think I'm making fun of you." She reached out to touch Liara's arm.

It would have been so easy for Liara to lie to herself about the sequence of events that happened next, to substitute a convenient misinterpretation of the overwhelming storm of visual, auditory, and tactile data lighting her nerves and flooding her mind because it all happened so quickly.

She felt the brush of Shepard's fingertips against her arm, her breath catching and her body tensing, and she recoiled at the touch a mere half-second or so before the crate came crashing to the ground, Shepard withdrawing her hand and whipping around in response to the commotion.

"Easy, Alenko! I'll have you know those things aren't _totally_ indestructible."

"Sorry, Commander," Kaidan replied, barely audible over Wrex's guffawing. 

Shepard turned back toward Liara. "Sorry about that. I wish I could say it wasn't always like this but… anyway." She lowered her voice again. "I was asking if you're _feeling alright_. You seem uneasy." 

"It is a bit chaotic here, that is all," she lied. Or maybe she really had startled at the crate's resounding crash and not, as she'd been certain, because of the smallest bit of physical contact. The former made more sense, anyway. Could she really be sure her perception of the events was both objective and accurate? 

"So." Shepard cocked her head to indicate the activities taking place behind her. "Care to show these rookies how it's done?"

"Pardon?"

"Just as we went over last night. Don't be shy, I saw your barrier down on Therum. I think you could outshine these guys." Added, when Liara shook her head, "Really."

Liara continued to shake her head, trying not to become too much of an awkward, bumbling mess. "My skills are nothing impressive."

Shepard smirked. "Bullshit."

"What? What I mean is…" Her voice trailed off, Shepard already having turned around to jog over to Kaidan and Wrex, and she timidly followed at Shepard's gesture. 

"She wants to see how well you can Lift," explained Kaidan, apparently having been filled in in the few seconds it took Liara to catch up. "It's 1000 kilos."

Liara brought up her omni-tool to punch in the numbers, then looked up from the conversion. Glanced at Shepard. "I can do it."

She looked away, but still saw Shepard nod out of the corner of her eye, and her heart was pounding again. Figured, however, that it was to her benefit to be amped up on nerves. She fixated her gaze on the crate, the impulse to look away almost overpowering when she could feel all eyes on her again, or at least the three pairs of eyes in her immediate vicinity. Focusing on every scuff, every dent on the crate's surface, her mind still attempted to wander. Shepard shifted her weight from one leg to another in her peripheral vision. Liara closed her eyes. Took three deep breaths. Opened her eyes again.

A wave of energy coursed through her mind and body as the space encompassing the crate momentarily shimmered and bent before illuminating in an envelope of blue, slowly but steadily drifting upward. She craned her neck to follow, focusing on ensuring the crate's movement followed her will and the natural hum of the challenging but satisfying exertion. 

For a moment it was her and 1000 kilograms of metal and nothing else, the banging and crashing and yelling of the room when she'd entered muted, and every object and person faded into unimportant background, her concentration tunneled to focus only on the task at hand. She counted the seconds elapsed, estimated the height of the crate, checked in with how she was feeling physically to determine how much longer she could keep going.

"She's kept that up there for twenty seconds like it's nothing…"

"Holy fuck."

At the sound of the murmuring, her awareness of the room around her snapped back into panoramic clarity. She could feel the eyes on her again, realized then that the room seemed quiet because everyone had indeed stopped what they were doing. Under ideal circumstances she could likely keep the crate lifted several seconds longer. Either what she was doing was, in fact, impressive, or the incongruity of a lanky asari scientist showing an average display of biotic ability earned the backhanded compliment in the form of Shepard's awed expletives. While she wasn't necessarily the type to enjoy showing off for the sake of it (her streak of competitiveness and stubbornness was another issue entirely), overtaxing herself here would have repercussions that would be embarrassing at best, and she was quickly approaching that limit. 

Not wanting to faint, she brought the crate down to the floor with an unceremonious _thunk_.

"Not bad, T'Soni," said Shepard, slowly nodding at her, eyes narrowed in a knowing smirk. "Think you can work with her, Kaidan?"

"Can do. Seems she's already got a head start." He paused, looked to Liara. "I mean, besides having naturally occurring biotics. You've had training. Not to be presumptuous or to generalize, but I think you catch my drift. Correct me if I'm wrong."

"At least where I grew up, we all received training to some extent during our years of compulsory education. If you inquire to my specific experience…" She glanced at Shepard, who watched her intently, then looked back at Kaidan. "It is not unusual for people of my mother's stature to employ a security detail. Growing up, she saw to it that I receive instruction from her commandos."

"I see…" he mused, though Liara was looking toward Shepard again, who stood with her arms crossed, smiling, shaking her head.

"How long were you intending to keep _that_ a secret?" She uncrossed her arms, gave Liara a clap on the shoulder. "We'll continue this conversation later," she said with a wink, and turned to jog back to her workout.

Kaidan made a noncommittal gesture. "Join us for the rest of the drill?"

⁂

The med storage room around her was dark as she rolled over in her cot, just on the verge of falling asleep, but even though her eyes could not make out anything around her, she found she could visualize it all in her mind. It didn't surprise her how quickly she grew to know the room objectively — she had, by her own choice, suggested to complete a thorough cleaning and inventory — but her decision to call this space hers, for the time being, was made in record time by her own standards. A very human timescale. She would not have ever made such a life-altering decision so hastily otherwise, even one with only two discrete outcomes. Stay or leave. Each sending her on a wildly different trajectory hinging on the outcome of a coin toss. A coin toss she had control over, but still.

Dr. Chakwas had told her to use her intuition, that there wasn't enough time for her to think it through. When Shepard, unsurprisingly, knocked on her door earlier that evening, she knew she'd be taking a leap into the unknown, feeling herself veer off the path she'd known for so long and ricochet in an unpredictable, exciting, terrifying direction.

Liara's stomach turned with the acceleration, feeling the life she thought she'd planned fall away from her as she abandoned that route, looking ahead with wide and wondering eyes at the path stretching out before her as Shepard offered a handshake.

"It's official, then. Welcome aboard, Dr. T'Soni."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 Thessian academic multi-language, from Cerberus Daily News Wiki (henceforth abbreviated CDN): [Asari Language](https://cdn.fandom.com/wiki/Asari_Language). As an aside, I often look to CDN for worldbuilding inspiration and will use terms or ideas from the wiki if they suit my needs. I will always note their origin accordingly. With that in mind, any future footnoted content _without_ attribution can be assumed to be an original idea or headcanon. [return]


	5. Chapter 5

There was a voice in the back of her mind, thin and whispering, like the rustle of leaves in a distant wind.

_"Liara…"_

_Shepard?_

Liara opened her eyes.

Stretching around her in every direction, pressing and suffocating, endless and opaque, was a dizzying shroud of blackness, a dark void and an oppressive weight, everything and nothing simultaneously.

The tendrils of a presence skimmed at the back of her mind.

_Hello?_ she cried out, the sound muffled but echoing back to her as if reflected off a million crystal shards, distorted and ringing and droning back sounds unrecognizable and disorienting. She turned, looked over one shoulder then the other, because she swore some of the voices were not her own, whispering back at her and tugging at the back of her consciousness, but everywhere her eyes darted stood the same featureless black, offering no point of reference and no solace.

Liara stepped in one direction, then another, her feet tapping soundlessly against the density of nothingness. Yet with every footstep there was a rumble, a vibration, and she could feel someone there, but with each turn she found nothing but a wall of darkness and solitude. 

_Who's there?_ she wailed, and she stumbled forward — the ground, or the lack thereof, shattering beneath her.

She fell, or she could feel herself accelerating in the way her stomach lurched, but there was no visual data, no air whipping at her face, so she squeezed her eyes shut as if it could make a difference here, left with only the pounding of her heart and the all-encompassing terror of everything and nothing simultaneously rushing past her faster and faster with no hope of reaching terminal velocity and —

— and then she was sobbing, she was still. A hand squeezed her shoulder in the dim light of her cabin aboard the _Normandy_ as she awoke from a nightmare. Shepard pulled her close, holding her tightly. _Hey, hey, you're okay. I'm here_, she whispered, her voice low and resonant as Liara sobbed with a cheek pressed to her chest, clinging to her, anchoring herself in the feeling of her reassuring embrace — warm and familiar, comforting and right, _like cedar and juniper and_ —

— and the memory dissolved, dispersing into the endless dark. Everything was empty, everything was black, and she could feel gravity wasn't right here, wasn't correct. She was falling but she wasn't, everything rushing past her the wrong way until it wasn't. It wasn't. She wasn't moving.

Shepard wasn't moving.

Liara ran to her. The image moved away. She tried to run again, tried to close the distance, but geometry wasn't right here, time wasn't right here, the image of Shepard lying unmoving on the ground like a distant reflection, eluding her and surrounding her and taunting her, helpless to make sense of anything.

_"Liara…"_

The voice was again indistinct, a whisper on a gust of wind. Liara froze. Felt the faint pull of another mind, requesting entry into her own. 

_Where are you?_ Her own voice echoed from within her thoughts, thin and shrill and exasperated.

Time slowed. 

Liara turned around.

The leafless trees zoomed straight toward and past her like spears, leaving her staring at an ashen clearing, the ground looming like a wall before her.

Charcoaled trees, drifting embers, a hazy blanket of smoke. She'd been here before.

Liara blinked. Felt the flicker of a presence.

She wasn't alone anymore.

Standing — no, lying — in front of where Liara stood so they were somehow, impossibly, face to face, was the source of the voice. On her back, her breathing shallow and labored, her every gasp for air ragged and rattling, was Shepard. Dying. Unmoving, save for the erratic rise and fall of her chest as she struggled to breathe. Her face darkened with bruises and glistening with blood, her eyes unfocused and glazed over, staring distantly, unseeing.

Liara staggered back. Found her every muscle seized up, the air caught and burning in her lungs, her whole body quaking as she reached out with her mind and with her trembling hands to Shepard — sputtering, choking through a trickle of blood — hearing her own breaths become wheezing and tense around her ragged, gasping shouts of _please, no, oh goddess no, I'm here, I'm here, stay with me, please, no, no, no…_ as she reached, staring into lifeless eyes not seeing her own, her mind barreling into every space around her trying to cling to the last fading vestige of Shepard's consciousness and — 

— everything burst into colors and lights and blurs and fragments and nothing made sense, feelings and thoughts running together in thin rivulets until everything became hazy and every molecule dissolved into nothing and she screamed, a shrill scream that shattered the void around her, and she was falling again, every microscopic piece of the world around her cutting and spraying past her and then… and then…

⁂

The dream unraveled its grip on Liara's mind in slow, agonizing layers, falling away and dissolving until awareness returned to her.

Everything was bright.

Too bright.

She opened her eyes.

Far above her, the midday sun flashed through a canopy of leaves fluttering in the light breeze, and she brought her hand to her brow, squinting through the pain of a splitting headache. She blinked a few times and her forest surroundings began to come into focus — tall, reaching trees tangled in vines; rocks painted with lichens and mosses; swaths of grasses and low shrubs, tree roots, and fallen leaves blanketing the rich ground — all in various shades of green save for bursts of yellow and magenta flowers. 

Liara winced and closed her eyes again. It was all too vibrant even despite the dappled light. The air, damp and cool several hours before, now felt stifling, heavy with the scent of fermenting fruit and humming with the ever-present drone of unfamiliar insects. 

Her mind meandered in the space around her, searching. Reaching. Met only an overwhelming emptiness, like expecting solid ground but stepping into sudden freefall and complete darkness…

It was the same feeling she had experienced reaching for her mother after her last words on Noveria, but this time without the pressure of strong hands upon her shoulders, solid arms to hold her secure in a tight embrace —

"She's dead," she sobbed into the forest floor, her voice all but a whisper, tears not forthcoming. Her head pounded with each shuddering breath. "Dead…"

She could reach, try to initiate an impossible meld all she wanted as if by some cosmic, divine significance she could bend the laws of physics and Shepard would be there despite the light-years between them, but trying to meld while the target mind in question was not in close proximity — as if the failure to do so meant something — was stupid. A feeling of dissatisfaction after a failed meld, or being forced out of someone else's mind, was not unusual. It was only a dream. Only a feeling. No solid proof. 

"Dead." The pain gripped at her mind, its darkness unfurling and expanding as her breathing slowly quieted and her awareness drifted with the waves of wind in the trees far above her. 

It was over. They wouldn't find her here. And if they did, it would be too late.

⁂

She awoke to the smell of the earth at her nose and the feeling of damp, decaying leaves caked to her cheek. 

Shimmering sunlight through the trees above sent a jabbing pain through her head, and she closed her eyes, wincing, the ground cool on her face but the pain overwhelming her senses, reverberating like needles through her brain. 

She retched — heaving and convulsing and unproductive at first — until bile dribbled down her chin and she lay with her face pressed into the dirt and the leaves again, trembling and weak, overheated from exertion. The aftershocks of pain rang through her head as she quivered, gasping for air through the acrid stench of bile mixed with organic matter. Her throat and lips burned with the lingering acid.

As pain dominated her mind her thoughts scattered, capricious as the leaves fluttering above her. The fragments of rationality that did surface repeated to her to find help. Find water. Move. Live.

They told her she'd done real damage overtaxing her biotics. That without intervention, she would die.

She licked her lips and tasted blood.

Her breathing slowly returned to shallow normal, and the sound of the wind through the leaves made her limbs feel heavy.

She couldn't bring herself to move or care. 

⁂

"Liara!"

Her mind lurched out of unfocused drifting. She panted into the damp ground, sore and winded as if she'd fallen physical distance onto the dark forest floor rather than out of hours of lapsed consciousness. Or dreamless, restless sleep. She couldn't be sure.

Gritting her teeth she rolled onto her back, stiff and tender muscles protesting, the flare of pain from her left leg and the renewed white-hot agony of her pounding head sending her into a fit of shakes. Next to the oppressive weight of her sorrow it was a welcome distraction, the waves of pain syncing with the pattern of her breathing until a deceptive sereneness washed over her, time stretching around her as her breaths became shallow and languid. 

It was uncomfortably quiet without the electric buzz of daytime sounds. Aside from intermittent chirping and cooing from unseen wildlife, she was alone and hidden in her own forest clearing. An aching and sinking weight burned in her chest as she yearned for sleep — or whatever state she kept slipping into — to take her once again. Maybe even for the last time.

Above her, the inky black silhouette of the tree canopy hung unmoving — still visible, but beginning to blend, with an indigo sky. The air had cooled slightly, but still enveloped her in its thick humidity and unrefreshing stillness. Bioluminescent insects flickered around her in neon green, and she lay transfixed, watching the paths they traced in the air before her blur into curling threads of light.

Two lights hovered in the air, much brighter than the other bugs, catching her attention with their vibrant dance.

Were they trying to communicate?

She smiled absently and glowed in response, the tendrils of blue dancing around her before fading abruptly as her vision grayed out and pain split through her head. She shuddered. Winced. 

"Liaraaa!"

The voice rang through the dark forest and permeated the dense fog of her mind, jolting her out of her trance, though not fully. She tried to force her surroundings to come into focus, tried to lift the haze clouding her perception, but as her head continued to pound and her mind spun with useless fragments of thoughts, all that remained was a desperation she couldn't quite place. She wasn't alone anymore. Couldn't make sense of it.

There were two voices, both familiar, all sounds but no words, approaching from behind her. Jogging, thumping footsteps over the brush and branches and leaves drew closer along with flashes of white light, jumping and casting shadows until she was flooded in the glare. The footsteps drew closer, her name shouted repeatedly, and the green pinpricks of the glowing insects scattered away. 

She felt a tight grip at her shoulder, heard her name repeated. Her eyelids fluttered open as fingertips pressed against her wrist.

"I can't… I can't go back… just leave me here…" Liara slurred.

Tali kneeled beside her, working at something at Liara's wrist, voice trembling as she sniffled behind her helmet, though the words she repeated meant nothing to Liara.

"I can't…"

Tali fumbled with the clasp around Liara's wrist until an orange glow bloomed around it, and a click sounded as her earpiece registered her omni-tool's translator.

Behind her, Garrus's voice was serious, transitioning from tonal grumbles to words once the translation took hold. "— flashed her biotics and we found her, Doctor, but it doesn't look good. Sending our location now for a med evac."

Beside her, Tali grasped her shoulder again. "Liara, can you understand me? Please give me something. Anything."

"I can't go back…"

"Liara, please." She sniffled again, took a moment to regain some semblance of composure. "Please answer me, can you understand me, are you hurt?"

"Why did… why… are you here… just leave me, please just leave me here."

"We're not going to do that," Tali said, sitting down on the ground beside Liara. "We're here for you. It's going to be okay."

"How… how can you say that?" Her brow furrowed and her eyes went steely.

"Wh… what?"

Garrus kneeled down beside Tali. "Liara, we're here for you. Hold on. Help is on the way."

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe," Liara said, voice gone cold, "maybe… some of us will not be okay. That some of us… were not as fortunate."

Tali squeezed her shoulder. "Liara, you don't actually —"

"Some of us," she hissed, "do not see the point of going on." She breathed through gritted teeth, her tone biting. "_Why_ did you come for me?"

Tali lurched forward, indignant, past her breaking point. "Did you think we _wouldn't_ come? Did you think we wouldn't _worry_ after that stunt you pulled?" she wailed.

Garrus beckoned her back. "Now is not the time."

Tali doubled down, continuing shrilly, "Did you _ever_ consider that she's not the only one who cares about you?" Her voice broke, and she sobbed, deflating. "She could still be alive."

Tali sniffled as Garrus murmured to her, hand on her shoulder. "Medical will be here soon."

Liara grimaced. "I can't go back."

"Liara…"

Knowing it would likely be the last thing she ever did, Liara channeled everything she could, from a reserve of strength she knew she did not have, into a glowing burst of biotic energy, and the burgeoning cloud of glowing blue and near-incomprehensible shrieks of her name were the last thing she remembered against white-hot agony.


	6. Chapter 6

_ **20 January 2183** _  
_ **Tayseri Ward, Citadel** _

"Where are we going?"

Liara looked up from the map on her omni-tool just in time to avoid barreling into a large surly-looking turian who offered nothing more than a grumble in response to her timid apology. She spotted Shepard, who stood waiting several paces ahead — it hadn't been the first time on their present excursion she'd had to stop — and gave her a nod.

Despite Liara being the taller one between them, her theoretically longer strides weren't proving beneficial as she divided her attention. Watching the navigational display while also avoiding collisions in the bustling foot traffic around her was almost impossible if she wanted to keep up, and Shepard walked at a pace puzzlingly disproportionate to her short stature. She shuffled along to meet up with her.

"Like I said," Shepard answered as they resumed walking, shoulder-to-shoulder at least for the moment, "to pick up your new armor."

"But —" Liara looked down at the display at her wrist again only to brush shoulders with an asari matron, who gave her a condescending glare. "Never mind," she mumbled, inaudible to anyone but herself in the thick buzz of ambient noise, conversations in countless languages and the overlapping layers of music from nearby establishments. 

She stepped off to the side of the walkway to disable the map program she had running. It had, for the past ten minutes, been beeping with every unanticipated turn and flashing a message alerting her she was headed in the opposite direction of her destination. _Detour, or some other plans_, she decided, and turned off her 'tool. _Or lost, and doesn't want to admit it._

Shepard stood several steps ahead again, patiently, albeit with a hint of a smirk, waiting for Liara to catch up.

Liara trotted along at Shepard's side for a few moments, glancing over several times in attempts to read her expression, perhaps to find a hint as to her intentions or destination, before she worked up the courage to speak.

"You are not lost, are you?"

The corner of Shepard's mouth quirked into the beginnings of a lopsided grin. "Nope."

"I am not sure I believe you." Liara brought up her map again with a few quick gestures and motioned for Shepard to look. "I have been following along on the map, and the retailer in question was —"

"— located about ten minutes that way, I know." She gestured with a tilt of her head in the direction indicated on Liara's map.

"Then why…"

"I figured we had some time to kill and I had something in mind I thought you'd enjoy, something of a welcome gift. Now if I could just _find it_." Shepard slowed her pace, surveyed the surroundings, then turned into a narrow alleyway aglow with neon signs and thick with the aromatic steam wafting from nearby restaurants. Liara followed, carefully weaving her way through a boisterous crowd, their shouted conversation over the rhythmic, pulsing bass from a nearby bar and collective inebriation more indicative of nightlife than of noontime errands and lunch, though so much was to be expected when a single standard day/night cycle did not exist in most parts of each Ward. Being aware of it, however, didn't make it any less disorienting.

"Do you not have the location saved?" Liara asked, politely waving away a street vendor offering a sample of some ambiguous type of marinated and skewered meat.

"Where's the fun in that?" Shepard quipped, taking the sample Liara had declined. Continued, with her mouth full, "Besides, I know approximately where it is."

Liara followed for a few more steps and stopped abruptly. "Approximately?"

"Oh, you doubt me and my prime navigational skills, don't you, Dr. T'Soni? I'm offended." She turned toward Liara, her arms crossed, a self-assured grin stretching across her face.

"I…" Whatever sentence she intended to speak dissolved on her tongue before she could form the words. The energetic beats of the nearby bar's music faded into the next track — droning, metallic, captivating tones — the multitude of conversations, chattering, laughing, shouting, fading into background noise as she inhaled, found her breath caught in her lungs, found she couldn't help but notice the way the shifting neon lights behind Shepard illuminated her in a bluish-purple glow, the short spikes of her hair bright like flames, the sheen on her skin, and the way the light wrapped her silhouette like the wispy envelope of biotics.

Shepard — who was, as Liara reminded herself, undoubtedly _not_ a biotic — leaned in and tapped Liara's elbow. "Joking," she said, her grin replaced with a look of sincerity. "C'mon, aren't you starting to notice a trend here?" 

"I am sorry, I…" She shook her head, still fumbling for words in a fog of ephemeral thoughts.

Shepard's expression softened further, her lips parting in an inquisitive smile at Liara's reluctance to speak. If she hoped to encourage her, the effect was opposite as intended.

Flustered, Liara gave up attempts at forming a coherent sentence. It was easier to let Shepard believe she'd missed the joke than to explain her sudden lapse in attention, entranced as she was with the intricacies and peculiarities of light and its behavior with an array of physical surfaces. How transfixed she was on the way it scattered in a diffuse glow through the strands of her hair, how it outlined the musculature in her shoulders, her arms —

Saturated blue light would likely hide any ruddy tinge to her cheeks. Still, she thought, now was probably an opportune moment to shift her gaze downward and feign preoccupation with something sticky on the sole of her shoe despite the actual lack thereof. Anything to override her mind's aberrant hyperfixation on mundane optical phenomena. Was she even breathing?

"Oh, it's over there!" Shepard announced cheerily, having spotted her destination halfway into Liara's attempt to scrape an imaginary piece of gum off her boot.

Liara exhaled, seemingly for the first time in too long, fortunate to have been spared from further embarrassment and lightheadedness.

The previously elusive restaurant was squeezed between two businesses: an electronics repair shop with a nauseating array of flashing signs and a shabby place selling overpriced (and likely inauthentic) antiques. Its nondescript, curtained front window and lack of showy signage meant it was easy to overlook if you weren't already aware of its existence.

Shepard had a bit of bounce in her step as they approached, obviously pleased with herself, and Liara offered a skeptical smile as she followed her through the door, which had bells that jingled when it closed. The fragrance of unfamiliar yet comforting spices warmed the air, and Liara's skepticism turned to curiosity.

"Have you been here before?" Liara asked, taking in the cozy, if cramped, interior.

Four small tables sat against the walls, two occupied, one by two asari in quiet conversation over coffee, the other by a group of five humans, laughing and lively, crowded around their shared meal in mismatched chairs. On the walls hung a series of tapestries in muted, coordinating colors, all depicting ruins and other ancient architecture amidst mountainous landscapes, some unfamiliar, others famous landmarks on Thessia Liara had only seen in photographs.

"Actually, no," Shepard answered, "I found it while looking up directions to the Armax retailer, and it sounded too interesting to pass up."

A woman entered the dining area from the kitchen, holding a tray of desserts for the asari table and gesturing for Shepard and Liara to sit with a friendly nod before returning her attention to the other guests.

"I see," said Liara, taking a seat across from Shepard, who had sat with her back to the table of noisily talkative diners. Liara picked up a menu, tapped an acknowledgment on the screen that the language suggestion was correct. "It's Earth-Thessian fusion food?"

"Mediterranean-Ulessian fusion, specifically, and I'd hazard a guess we are each familiar with our respective half but not the other."

"That seems awfully specific as a combination," she said, about to set her menu down in favor of a quick geography search on her 'tool, but thought better of it.

"Well, according to this establishment's sparse extranet site, it's run by a couple. Anahita and Teya." She looked up over her menu. "Are you from Ulee?" [2]

"I am not, not anywhere near there actually, but I have tasted their food."

"Yeah?"

"There was a place I used to go for lunch when I was in decade four. It was close to campus, and they had excellent _kasia'ope_. [3] Quieter than the cafeteria."

"Seems to be your MO."

"What does?" Liara asked without thought, unsure of how she felt being the focus of the conversation.

The table behind Shepard erupted into laughter and shouting again, and she waited for their volume to drop before she answered, shifting in her seat, her voice a touch quieter than before. 

"I asked before if you ever got lonely. You know, out on your excursions. I thought maybe you just didn't like people."

"My mother nurtured in me my natural independence," she replied evenly. "I never gave much thought to the alternative."

"You had friends, though."

"I had peers, acquaintances. Then colleagues. Research advisors." 

Shepard looked like she was about to pry further, gaze fixed in curious focus on Liara, but decided against it. 

She couldn't decide if she was glad or not. Looked down at her menu again.

"Oh, look! They have so many kinds of tea."

⁂

As it turned out, the fragrant cuisine of Thessia's only landlocked city-state blended beautifully with Earth's Mediterranean, and it became difficult to tell which dish influenced which as ingredients from regions separated by distances of incomprehensible scale melded in a harmony of spices, stewed to perfection.

And the owners were lovely, both coming by to check in, offering stories of how the versions of the dishes they ordered came to be. Liara inquired about their version of _kasia'ope_, which here, they made with _shaari_ [4] and rosewater, and with Shepard's encouragement requested two servings be brought after they concluded their meal.

She shouldn't have had to specify two _separate_ servings, but their friendly hosts being a human-asari couple, she couldn't place too much blame on them for whatever parallels they may have assumed, however presumptuous.

She focused her attention back on her food.

"This one is strange," said Liara, picking up something green with her fork. "I think I like it."

"That's okra, and you're right, it is a little weird. The seeds can be slimy."

"Seeds. So it _is_ a plant, then."

"What did you think it was?" Shepard chuckled, pointing to something with her fork. "This one is also a plant, though I grew up calling it _egg_ plant," she said, putting deliberate emphasis on enunciating the words separately.

"I presume it's not also considered an egg." Liara spooned out another helping of the stew containing the eggplant and okra onto her plate, next to a generous helping of pilaf. "I do like it as well."

"Ever met a food you didn't like, Liara?" Shepard said through a smile, picking up her cup of coffee. She shifted in her seat as the conversation at the table behind her increased in volume again, the group finalizing their payment and shuffling out of their seats.

"That one," she said, indicating Shepard's held beverage. "It's far too bitter."

She paused, just short of taking a sip. "Coffee isn't food. Well, not usually. And you don't have to drink it black, you know. You should try it sometime. Or, uh, try it again, but properly."

"I will keep that in mind," Liara said, eyeing Shepard, whose demeanor had stiffened somewhat. She went to pick up her cup of tea.

Behind her, a woman was the last to stand, tossing a disposable credit chit on the table before squeezing through the small space between her table and Shepard's chair, knocking Shepard's shoulder in the process.

"Sorry about —" She looked down at her and froze for a second as if lost in thought, brushing away the hair that had fallen into her face. "Petra?"

Shepard abruptly turned to look at her. Rose from her seat with a look of exaggerated disbelief. "Holy shit."

"What are you doing here?" she said, full of playful and eager inquisitiveness. She leaned in, brought her into a hug that Shepard reciprocated.

Liara looked down at her plate, unsure if she should acknowledge the reunion playing out before her or become wholly preoccupied with her food. 

"I could just as easily ask you that question," Shepard countered, either with strained curiosity or because she was being hugged too tightly, Liara wasn't sure. She slowly looked up from cutting the okra on her plate in half, shifting her attention to Shepard's acquaintance.

"I know, I know," she said, pulling away, hands lingering upon Shepard's elbows for a moment. Liara looked down at her plate again, pretending to be fascinated by the slimy seeds. "Nothing exciting by most people's standards. Just working for BluePine a few blocks down, writing software. Mostly those stupid omni-tool widget packages that come preinstalled on the student models."

"Who's your friend, Siobhan?" A member of the group congregating by the door spoke up, and Liara turned, if only to distract herself from the awkwardness.

"We're on our lunch break," she explained to Shepard, a bit regretfully, the rest of her group eager to leave and crowding around the door. She turned to wave them over, and the four of them begrudgingly obliged. "Look who it is! I _told_ you guys we knew each other."

"On the carrier _SSV Boltzmann_," Shepard offered without enthusiasm to the onlookers.

"See? First human Spectre and my old friend, Petra Nazari… Shepard." She beamed at her friends, most nodded noncommittally.

"It's just Shepard," said Shepard blandly, with a fleeting sideways glance toward Liara. Possibly unintentional, and Liara pretended not to notice. She stiffened, her every movement turned deliberate and controlled, nibbling at her food with feigned indifference toward the overheard conversation, burning curiosity tenuously contained. 

"Right, right. Doesn't have the same ring to it, though."

"Hate to be that person, but we're running late," interrupted the group's apparent spokesperson with obvious impatience. "Congrats, Pe— uh, Commander, that's a big deal."

"Thank you, it's an honor."

"But seriously, we gotta go." Two people were gravitating idly toward the door.

Siobhan waved her hand in a gesture of minor annoyance. "You all can head out then, I'll catch up real soon." She turned toward Shepard again. "Sorry about that. Not impressed, I guess."

Shepard rubbed the back of her neck. "I wouldn't…"

"Oh, don't be so bashful. I saw the vids, it's incredible. Didn't even realize it was you at first when I heard the news." She paused, then added, leaning in slightly. "I didn't realize you officially took your mum's name. Sorry for the slip-up."

Liara filed yet another name in her mind and immediately scolded herself. As if she was entitled to know.

Shepard shrugged. "Must've been just after your family transferred."

Why was she so enamored with the idea of her past?

"Hey, as much as I'd love to stay and chat, I really do have to get going. Please, if you're ever around again…" She activated her omni-tool and held out her arm, waiting for Shepard to wave hers nearby and accept the transfer of contact info. She did, and the indicator flashed green at her wrist. "Ping me, okay?" She leaned in and hugged her again, her chin on Shepard's shoulder. "I mean it." When she finally pulled away, she made eye contact with Liara for the first time. Offered her a curt nod before turning to leave, waves of auburn hair bobbing with her steps.

The bells jingled as the front door opened and shut.

Aside from the lilting vocals of the music emanating from the overhead speakers, the restaurant descended into uncomfortable silence.

Shepard lingered a moment, standing, before she plopped back into her chair, resting her chin on her hand. Shook her head with a sardonic smile.

"That was unexpected and awkward," she said, preoccupied, it seemed, with an imperfection in the tablecloth. She sat up straighter and took her elbow off the table, snapping out of her somber mood. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Liara said, sincere. She picked up her tea. Didn't want to seem nosy, so she settled on something generic, albeit self-explanatory. "Someone from your past?"

"Yeah. I didn't think I'd ever see her again. 'Small world,' they used to say." She shrugged. "Small galaxy."

"You were close?" she said, pushing through her hesitancy, attempting to ignore the tension rising in her chest. Her fork clinked against her plate a bit louder than she intended.

"Yeah." Shepard stopped, considered her words. "Yeah, I guess you could say that. We knew each other on the second-to-last ship my mother ever served on when I was still a kid. Well, not young kid. I was sixteen."

Liara exhaled, relaxing a bit. "I imagine it must have been difficult in that kind of setting, not knowing many people your own age. Was she your only friend at that time?"

"I guess?" she said, shrugging. "We hung out mostly out of boredom and convenience, but we never really meshed well, never found much common ground. Aside from lots of shared experimentation." 

"What kind of experiments?"

Shepard tried and failed to suppress a laugh. "What? Oh." Shook her head. "I don't want to talk about it." 

Liara shrunk, the embarrassment fully taking hold and wrapping like a warm cape around her shoulders and neck. "I fail to see what's so funny? I did not know you worked in a lab."

"I'd really rather not talk about it," she said tightly, then drank her coffee.

"My apologies, I was only curious." Liara took another bite of her food, trying to distract herself from the hum of confusing, conflicting feelings, not knowing what else to say or at what point she'd ventured too far. Regretful, embarrassed, and… something else she couldn't quite place. In any other circumstances, she knew she need not be embarrassed, at least. It was probably just a translator error after all, and she could ask for clarification later. That — asking later, continuing the conversation — made her nervous, if nervous even was the correct word. She wasn't so sure anymore. Her cheeks felt hot and she was sure the color was showing.

When she looked up, Shepard's expression had softened into a look of regret. "It's just… now isn't a good time. It was tactless. I shouldn't have said it."

Liara's heart fluttered again. How much caffeine was in that tea she drank? She searched for ways to offer a change of topic, eyes scanning her surroundings for an interesting object to settle on and hoping said object would remind her of a factoid or anecdote she could bring to the surface of her mind and prattle on about. _Teacup, fork, okra seeds, bowl of sugar cubes, no, no, no, no… think, just_ think —

_Not those kinds of experiments._

"Oh, goddess, I am so dense." Liara buried her face in her hands, a paltry shield from the potency of her renewed embarrassment. Her cheeks burned beneath her palms and she wouldn't have been surprised if the heat radiating off her crest was literally visible. Maybe an exaggeration, but still, any warmer and she may begin to melt out of her chair and collect as a puddle underneath the table. That, actually, seemed preferable. 

Not a cultural misunderstanding, not a translator error. Just plain dense and more than a little naive. She groaned. Peeked out from between her fingers.

Shepard was wide-eyed, somewhere between amused and horrified. "I'm going to take full accountability for making this awkward, which means it's also my responsibility to change the subject." She absentmindedly moved some of the food around on her plate with her fork. "Do you follow skyball?"

⁂

Stories of gallivanting maidens were myriad. It was a widespread stereotype that most youths scrounged up whatever savings they possessed to purchase transport and an appropriate outfit, whether it be the solid, protective heft of a suit of armor or something shimmering, revealing, titillating.

All the time in the world to waste, as was generally the outsider's perspective, and the loud and proud adventurers made themselves the face of her people's young. Of course it was a misconception that it was the norm. While she herself was a bit of an outlier, there was certainly a cultural expectation to expand one's horizons on the broadest, grandest scale possible and return with a heightened perspective and an understanding of one's place in the galaxy (devout siarist or not) — or such was the romanticized version. 

It wasn't always easy to transplant oneself, and stories of those who couldn't thrive out there on a vision of studio art, or esoteric mathematics, or hanar-inspired interpretive dance were often forced to reevaluate their careers abroad when it meant the difference between eating or starving, some means of income less savory than others. Sometimes that meant becoming a gun for hire and hoping it wasn't a death wish, and hoping to return home despite no longer replying to messages from concerned family members.

But sure, all young and bright-eyed asari were mercs or strippers by choice.

Had it not been for Shepard's presence, with her flashy credentials that turned the heads of the clerks, Liara would have simply been assumed to be one of those bright-eyed maidens, flinging herself, ready or not, into the perils of an unrelenting galaxy, splurging on the armor that would shield her from the elements, from bullets, and — goddess forbid — from the lack of elements, were she to end up on the wrong side of a bulkhead. 

Right now she felt like one of those maidens, barely enough real-life experience or intuition to trust she wouldn't accidentally blast herself out an airlock.

Her armor was ready as specified, the modular parts fitted to her provided measurements, others needing slight adjustment during the fitting. The weight of the armor on her frame, the way she individually took stock of each limb, ensuring the padding wrapped snugly around her without restricting movement over the skin-tight compressionwear underneath, was enough to distract her from the mortifying misunderstanding over lunch. Having to consciously account for each of her extremities, apparently, served as a timely distraction from her incessant inner monologue and any residual embarrassment.

They arranged to have her armor delivered back to the _Normandy_ via courier, its bulky container conducive neither to walking nor to lugging onto public transit. The onboard schedule had them departing the Citadel no sooner than tomorrow morning, 0800, so there still remained plenty of time for additional errands and sightseeing. And while Liara needn't replace all the items she'd lost on Therum — more difficult to find or specialized tools she'd already ordered via extranet service and scheduled for expedited delivery — now would likely be her only opportunity to pick up everyday essentials. 

She'd spoken up tentatively after leaving her fitting appointment, not wanting to inconvenience Shepard, even suggesting she continue her shopping alone while allowing her to return to the ship, but she insisted otherwise. Whatever tension hung in the air over lunch having since dissolved, the bounce in her step and calm, pensive demeanor returned and put her mind at ease. It was odd — not only did she seem unbothered by any suspected inconvenience, she instead seemed to be genuinely enjoying herself despite there being no compelling reason for her to have tagged along. Besides being, as she reminded Liara, technically off-duty.

Solitude was so comfortable, had been the norm for so long, that she truly hadn't given much thought to the alternative. Thriving in the absence of others, who only ever served to distract or clash with her own routine, meant she could build her own structure to her days and focus with exceptional clarity. Liara thought back to their conversation before lunch. She didn't know Shepard, at least not really, and thus it didn't make sense that the uneasiness she knew should be there was instead absent, replaced with something warm and resonant in her core. That even when their conversation drifted into silence, it was of the familiar sort. She didn't think of herself as being lonely. Driven and harshly independent, yes. But the fact that she seemed to be enjoying Shepard's presence was puzzling, if not mildly disconcerting. 

Liara glanced over occasionally to read her — perhaps to try to get a sense of whether the feeling was shared — but her expression, while friendly, remained neutral enough to be unreadable, and Liara couldn't help but continue to wonder what lay beneath that facade. Felt ashamed that her mind had wandered into the labyrinth of frivolous fantasy. Curiosity always seemed to get the better of her, and she had to admit to herself, Shepard was a bit of an important artifact. But most of the artifacts she studied weren't so charming.

The other Liara — the one who was sifting through commercial transport prices back to Thessia in the Presidium ring's grubby, overcrowded visitor docks — wouldn't have troubled herself with such odd avenues of thought.

After purchasing several sets of clothes (half of which were standard science jumpsuits), the ever-essential electric tea set (including a generous variety of her favorite loose-leaf blends), a small lineup of personal care items (hair conditioner was no substitute for a correctly formulated crest lotion), and a sturdy satchel to carry her purchases and to use for later, she had nothing important left to accomplish. She brought up directions to the nearest rapid transit station, smiling with recognition. By happenstance it would be a delightful, scenic stroll.

Their errands had seen them wander a different path than they'd traveled previously. The cramped buildings and bustling crowds they'd weaved through before now gave way to an open space, a park that spanned several blocks, the sweeping arcs of the Dilinaga Concert Hall looming and grandiose in the distance at the end of a sprawling promenade.

Liara closed her navigational program as they reached the park's periphery, the transit station's bright informational display visible far on the opposite end, and took in her surroundings as Shepard hummed a thoughtful tune beside her — for the first time, it seemed, walking at a leisurely pace conducive to sightseeing.

The park — Dilinaga Plaza, officially — was a popular and communal space without feeling overcrowded, a serenity in the gentle sounds, in the sweet scent of the flowers cascading from the hanging lamppost planters and the lines of string lights arcing elegantly between decorative spires. At the park's center was a grand fountain, its artistic arrangement of rectangular stone basins spilling into one another, then ultimately into large, shallow pools flush with the ground. From the lower pools a series of abstract sculptures rose as if taking flight, illuminated in a slowly shifting display of colored light which shimmered with the ripples in the water. And from the fountain's highest tier, a bronze likeness of Matriarch Dilinaga stood proudly upon a polished pedestal as if calmly surveying her eponymous plaza, promenade, and concert hall.

A group of several small asari children splashed in the pool nearest Liara and Shepard, some climbing onto the stone tiers, some chasing each other around the sculptures rising from the water, their laughter and playful shouts ringing out over the lower ambient sound of conversation and the eerie yet silvery tones of a pair of asari buskers playing _pariambi_ [5].

Liara wondered how she could be so at peace, as if she hadn't made one of the most daring decisions of her life less than a day before. Walking next to the person who, for whatever reasons, nonsensical or not, was simultaneously terrifying and intimidating and fascinating to her, but all the winding threads of nervousness tightening in her stomach before she felt unravel and loosen and give way to warmth and familiarity. It didn't make sense, and she sought not to overthink the fleeting emotion. Was it yearning? Anticipation? Nostalgia? It was possible, perhaps, she was imagining it, or misidentifying its source. This was, after all, a beautiful place, and the tones of the _pariambi_ reminded her of home. They stopped to listen to the music.

The asari playing their _pariambi_ duet concluded their piece to a scattered applause, and they flared their biotics in coiling ripples of light in gratitude before moving into the next performance, their instruments glowing and alive with droning melodies as their hands danced in synchronized fluid gestures.

Shepard nudged at Liara's arm with her elbow. "What are those? They're not even touching them."

"_Pariambi_. Instead of using vibration by physical contact to produce sound, a series of electronic sensors maps the minor changes in gravitation to audio output."

"Well that sounds easy."

Liara caught her sarcasm that time and smiled. "In terms of popular instruments, it has one of the steepest learning curves, requiring both impeccable sense of pitch and extremely fine control of biotics."

They lingered until the remainder of the piece, Shepard tapping Liara's elbow as another scattered applause rang out.

"Shall we?" She gestured in the direction of the rapid transit station, and Liara sighed, heart full of bittersweet contentment, as they began to make their way across the park's remaining distance to their destination.

⁂

The crate containing her armor awaited as ordered once they returned aboard.

"I think some tinkering with your new suit's electronics is in order," Shepard said, adjusting her grip on the crate's handle. "Drop off your stuff, then join me in the cargo bay?"

Shepard gave her a nod that she sheepishly returned before turning away.

"One more thing." Liara stopped, looked over her shoulder. "Probably want to change into your undersuit. I'll be running you through some tests to get everything calibrated correctly."

Back in her room, Liara slid the pack off her shoulder and onto her bed. She removed the tea set, unpacking the kettle and the set of small glass cups and placing them on the desk. The dainty cups stacked neatly into each other, a tower of four in swirling translucent colors. She thought a moment, then removed the top two. Less risk of knocking the whole set over.

As if it weren't an excuse to stall.

She tapped her fingers on the desk, crossed her arms in front of her, tapped her fingers against her arm. Turned back to the bed and rummaged through her pack again, drawing out the soft, black garments, and proceeding to change into them.

Completing the task, she frowned. She pinched and stretched the fabric over the surface of the opposite arm, ensuring it was opaque. Opaque or not, and without a mirror, the ensemble likely didn't leave much to the imagination, and she preferred not to have to slink across the ship like this in mixed-species company.

She layered her jumpsuit over her compressionwear, sighed, and headed out the door.

There was something about that elevator that activated her introspection. Something about being trapped in a metal box that, depending on your trust of engineering and/or safety inspections, left you with plenty of time to think about things and not many options to do much else. Maybe it wasn't a universal experience, but during her last roundtrip from the crew deck to the cargo hold (and vice versa), she'd thought many thoughts over the vertical distance traversed, which seemed much farther than she would have estimated looking at the ship.

That, or it was the slowest elevator in existence. 

Liara punched the keypad and the door began to groan shut (it, too, its own slow process), and wondered what revelation (or lack thereof) would come to her this time.

She wasn't nervous, just… it was hard to place the emotion. Exhaling heavily, she closed her eyes and crossed her arms. Not nervous, no, not at all. Definitely not thinking about —

Liara yelped as a crash rang out beside her as someone leaped into the elevator, its door still only halfway to closing.

"Nice. Timing." Shepard stood up from a crouch, righted the crate on the floor, and plopped herself leaning against the wall, grinning, next to Liara.

The door clamored shut and the elevator rumbled into motion.

Liara opened and closed her mouth several times, still startled from Shepard's abrupt entrance, not sure if speaking would help ease the tension or exacerbate it. Her undershirt dug into to the insides of her elbows where it creased with a bit more pressure than was comfortable. She uncrossed her arms and allowed them to hang beside her. Rolled her shoulders. Crossed her arms again before she'd realized she'd done so.

"You startled me," Liara began, breaking the silence. She softened her tone, which had been more accusatory than she'd intended. Not due to nerves because she wasn't nervous. Just startled _and that was all_. "I thought I would be catching up to you."

"Oh, I was checking my messages," Shepard said nonchalantly, as if she hadn't just come bounding recklessly into the elevator. "Got carried away."

"Right."

Standing within an arm's length radius seemed too close, but she'd lost her opportunity to move without suggesting overt intentions to create physical distance. She felt Shepard grinning without glancing over to look at her again. What was she so goddess-damned smug about?

Liara held her arms behind her back. Sucked on her lips while looking at the floor. Perhaps she was feeling a bit jumpy, a bit unreasonable, reading too much into things. She wasn't upset about it, but then again, she wasn't used to people looking at her that way, and that smile was all too disarming in a space where she was, for all intents and purposes, trapped with nowhere to hide. Not to mention the damper it put on her elevator introspection. Staring at the floor until they'd completed their descent would have to suffice.

The sound of the elevator grinding to a halt and the door's opening could not have been more welcome. Shepard grabbed the box again and made her way to a workstation, Liara following close behind. She took a seat.

"These hardsuits," Shepard said, rummaging through several drawers of tools and other equipment, "have quite an elaborate array of processors installed standard, running several essential programs, ranging from climate control to blunt-force trauma reduction to CO2 scrubbing, all with default parameters. There's also a shield generator, very important. That's its own deal. Energy requirements, you know." She opened the crate and pulled out the suit, setting it on the workbench. "Problem is," she continued, fiddling with something on the suit's back until a panel opened, allowing a disc about one centimeter thick and ten centimeters in diameter to pop out. She examined it with a facetious smirk. "It fucking sucks. We can do better." She tossed it aside and it clattered across the table.

"Seems a waste to throw out perfectly good equipment," Liara said, the disc still spinning noisily, rotating on its edge.

"Oh, I'm not discarding it. It's good to have extras on hand." She sat up, moved past Liara with a hand skimming on her shoulder (she was getting used to this and didn't flinch) before kneeling down to access a lower drawer. "I've been working with Tali to develop some special modded units, and there's one that has your name on it. Right here." She grabbed the new disc from the drawer and stood up, kicking the door shut.

"Did I hear my name?" a voice called out from behind them.

"Sure did!" Both Shepard and Liara turned to see Tali approaching from engineering. Shepard waved her over. "Join us if you have a minute!"

She jogged over to meet them. 

Shepard sat back down and resumed her tinkering. "Didn't feel like heading out today?" she said, focused on the readings displayed on her omni-tool.

"No, no. I asked Garrus if he wanted to go find some dextro food because, you know, who else would I ask to go get dextro food, but I don't think I'm his idea of good company. It's okay. There was enough work to do around here that I don't feel bad about not getting out."

"Hey, if I'd known, I'd've had you tag along with us. I appreciate the work ethic, but you weren't on the engineering roster today."

"I'll keep the offer in mind for next time. So," Tali said, indicating the mess on the table with apparent eagerness to change the subject, "shield generators. Oh! That's one of the ones we modded together."

"Yeah, just in the process of making sure all the connections are set on this bad boy and the suit computer is reading it correctly. Then we can try it out. Double-check these readings if you don't mind?"

"Sure thing."

Shepard scooted aside off the stool and allowed Tali to take her place. She leaned against the work table, next to where Liara stood observing.

"What exactly is it you're looking to accomplish?" Liara asked, shifting her weight, not fully looking at Shepard.

"Tali and I have been working on modding shield generators for the ground team. Longer battery life, stronger field, faster recharge, better in every way, really. And you're at a distinct advantage in that you're a biotic, so your shields go down — and your suit will give you warning if that's about to happen — that'll give you the heads up to prepare your barrier. Damn-near impenetrable if you do it right."

"You make it sound like it's going to be easy."

"Well, for you? Yeah, it probably will be."

By "it," Liara was more referring to the types of situations that would necessitate having such layered defenses, but didn't think now was the optimal time to disambiguate.

"I was trained in self-defense, and even then, mostly only in theory," she protested flimsily.

"Can't deny the quality of your training, though. You'll be a force to be reckoned with in a matter of weeks." Shepard gave her a look. "And you've got a head start. You'll be officially part of the ground team before you know." Tapping Liara on the shoulder, she gestured to the armor.

"Everything's looking good," Tali announced cheerily.

"Let's get you suited up. Bit more to do."

Once Liara completed the process of shimmying into her armor and successfully paired her omni-tool, Shepard ran her through a series of tests, had her jumping, moving her limbs in every which direction, throwing herself on the ground, dancing —

"That's not really required." Liara paused what she was doing, panting from exertion, laughing at Shepard's odd instructions.

"See? Jokes! You're learning," she said, occupied with the multiple windows open on her 'tool.

"Ha… ha."

"Little more enthusiasm?"

"OW!" she shouted, shocked by a peculiar jolt. 

"I just overloaded your shields." She jogged the few steps to her. "You good? That shouldn't have done any real damage. I used a weaker protocol than I'd use on the baddies. Shouldn't even have depleted all the way."

"Just an odd sensation," Liara said, watching the bars regenerate on her display.

"Yeah, I hear ya." She clapped her playfully on the shoulder. "Almost done. Let's get your helmet on."

Shepard went to retrieve the helmet and jogged over to assist her once again, stepping over the boundary Liara considered personal space as she worked the helmet carefully over the curve of her crest. 

"You'll have the option to set some info to your head-up display in the visor glass," she explained, working with the connectors at the helmet's back, attaching them to the suit one by one. "Right now it should be telling you the status of the seal."

"It says 'incomplete seal.'" 

"Oh?" Shepard fiddled with the cables again.

"Confirmed seal?"

Liara scanned the display. "No, still no."

"Huh." Shepard unclamped the cables and wiggled the helmet, gently lifting it off over Liara's crest, eyeing the connection. She squinted. "Everything looks good here," she mumbled, setting the helmet aside. She turned back toward her.

Their eye contact was brief but rang clear through Liara's body, and she instinctively looked away as Shepard stepped into her personal bubble again.

"Might be here," Shepard said, likely indicating whereabouts "here" referred to with a gesture, but Liara remained looking at the far end of the room and did not see. "Mind if I take a closer look?"

"Go ahead," she murmured.

"Here" happened to be the connectors on the suit's neckline. Was she holding her breath? _Breathe normally_, she instructed herself, as breathing had then become as natural as her first experience in zero-g, which was to say not natural at all. Slightly nauseated, in conscious but tense control of each breath she took, trying not to let whatever meltdown her physiology was having show as Shepard's fingertips traced the circumference of the seal (_breathe_) brushing up against her neck (_breathe!_) because how could she explain it? How could she explain away what didn't make sense? Was she so eager to pick her brain about not only this ancient vision, but minute details about her past, that her whole body went into overdrive?

"Ah," Shepard said as she produced a small object, holding it out for her to see. "Forgot one of the safety seals."

"Oh," Liara squeaked, only vaguely aware of what was going on around her.

The helmet clicked into place and she was glad to be in her own little space. 

Liara saw the orange glow of Shepard's omni-tool again, felt her astute gaze. She tried to reassure herself she was focusing on the suit, on the electronics, on the calibrations, and that technically she wasn't the focus of her attention.

"Let's see, getting good readings. We'll all be linked on the field, besides comms obviously, things like location and, uh, vitals." 

Liara's stomach dropped. Her lips began moving in an approximation of whatever she might begin to say to explain herself, her thoughts drowned out by the hissing of her breath in the confined space of her helmet.

Shepard's omni-tool waved in her peripheral vision. "Is that set right? Yeah, yeah, I suppose it is," she muttered to herself. She peered at Liara over the display. "Are you doing okay there?"

Liara made herself speak. "I'm feeling a bit unwell."

If she forced herself to make and sustain eye contact, what expression would she see on Shepard's face? A smirk? A single raised eyebrow? Any indication that she saw through her lie?

It wasn't entirely a lie, Liara reassured herself, her body humming with an odd vibration. She wasn't feeling quite right, not like herself. 

Liara met Shepard's eyes and found her expression neutral, unreadable one way or another. The slight tilt of her head, the lack of tension in her mouth, indicated, maybe, inquisitiveness? Thinly veiled concern? Disapproval?

"Lunch not agreeing with you or…?" Shepard deactivated her 'tool and looked up at her. "Claustrophobic?" she ventured, tentatively.

Liara nodded tensely, then shook her head. Nodded again, not entirely sure what she'd be perceived to be agreeing with.

Shepard paused for a moment. "We're pretty much done here anyway. Let's call it a day." She added, then, softly, "You should get some rest."

Liara gave her final nod and turned toward the elevator, the pattern of footsteps indicating Shepard followed a few paces behind her as she made her way to leave. 

It took more self-restraint than she anticipated not to attempt to read Shepard's expression as the elevator doors closed in front of her.

And even more not to look too deeply within herself to analyze the origin of her strange emotions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2 Thessian city-republic. CDN: [Ulee](https://cdn.fandom.com/wiki/Ulee) [return]
> 
> 3 Like frozen yogurt, made from Thessian fruit juices mixed with sweetened water. From CDN: [List of food and drink.](https://cdn.fandom.com/wiki/Food_and_Drink_\(list\)) [return]
> 
> 4 Ibid. Personal headcanon: similar to quince. [return]
> 
> 5 Electronic instrument native to Thessia similar to the theremin, but polyphonic. Played using biotics rather than touch, the musician employs a stylized (though somewhat standardized) series of hand gestures to map biotic output to pitch. [return]


	7. Chapter 7

The shapes around her had no color, their blurred forms amorphous and hazy like shadows as they flitted around her in a nauseating dance, blinking in and out of existence too quickly for her mind to consolidate them. Her world was bright, a stark unforgiving gray, holding her immobilized as it wrapped around her in its translucent, diffuse glow. Her thoughts skipped, trapped in nonsensical repetition amidst a backdrop of foggy discomfort. The shapes, the figures, continued their dance.

Pain gripped her like a vice until it did not. 

She floated, encased in her surroundings, until she melted into them.

With the shifting shadows came the muffled voices. The sounds were familiar, and she tried to turn toward their source, the words just on the cusp of being intelligible, but she didn't move. Maybe she couldn't move, maybe she didn't want to move. The air congealed around her and enveloped her. Time slipped away in viscous ribbons.

The light faded. 

_"It's going to be okay."_

The sound of Shepard's voice guided her over the tenuous threshold separating dreamless sleep from the first hints of awareness.

Curled up, laying on her side, Liara breathed into the familiar quiet of Shepard's quarters, taking in the ambient sounds that grounded her in the present and masked the starkness of silence. The fish tank's lights were dimmed for sleeping, but its oxygenator bubbled faintly over the warm rumble of the ship. Shepard lay close behind her, likewise awake, stroking her arm, her breathing soft and steady.

Liara waved her hand to activate the orange glow of the holographic clock. It took her a moment to register the time, 0242, her bleary mind and eyes fixed on the sweep of the second hand steadily traversing its perpetual, purposeless arc before the clock face disappeared, fading to dim transparency to blend with its nightstand surroundings. 

She breathed out her response as a whisper in her mind, her lips curling soundlessly around the words.

_Is it, though?_

Liara waited for a response, staring into the dark, afraid if she closed her eyes then opened them again she'd be transported to somewhere or some_when_ else and this reality — or not-reality — would be torn away. She searched for details to anchor herself, details that would serve to reassure her and to ground her. Cool air wafted on her cheek, on her crest, and on her shoulder, a comfortable contrast to the warmth of Shepard's fingertips as they trailed across her arm and the coziness of their shared body heat beneath soft sheets and the weight of the wool blanket. Their meld remained shallow, Shepard's emotions but a whisper, a glowing beacon shrouded by rolling waves of incoming fog, but the refuge of the depths of her mind, though hazy and inaccessible, she knew was there as always.

As she analyzed her surroundings, she found no reason to doubt her environment was anything other than what it seemed, and no reason to expect the world would part underneath her and thrust her into the chasm of another reality. But despite the confusion of sleep fading into lucidity, the reassurance of Shepard's presence, familiar and physical and real as everything else in her vicinity, she couldn't shake the grip of a nagging, distant, indeterminate fear, like something about her surroundings was slightly askew, but she couldn't quite place it.

Behind her, Shepard inhaled slowly, thoughtfully, and answered through their meld. _"Yeah. I'm sure."_

Liara chewed on her lip and spoke aloud as well as into Shepard's mind. _"You said to me not long ago, 'I don't know if I could do this without you.'"_ She paused, turned toward her, aware she could no longer keep her voice from quivering in her effort to hold back tears. _"It's my turn. I can't do this without you. I can't. I can't."_

_"Shhhh."_ Shepard leaned in closer and wrapped her arms around her, voice pitched just above a whisper as her lips brushed against the base of her neck. Under different circumstances it would have been a comfort, but now it only brought a renewed surge of nervousness. _"I'm right here, though._ With _you."_

"I don't understand what you mean," Liara snapped, severing what remained of their mental connection, voice tense with exasperated edge. Wriggling free of her embrace, she rolled onto her back and propped herself up on her elbows, glaring down at her stonily. "You're not here," she continued, her tone biting. Shepard recoiled visibly. "Not really."

Liara sat up fully and reached a tentative hand out to touch Shepard's face, halfway expecting her hand to pass through what was nothing but an illusion, but instead her fingers traced the curve of her cheek. It was undeniably solid, the warmth and give as expected as she pressed, skin dragging against skin. She pulled away and sank back down beside her, deflated, staring up at the overhead window. Slowly shook her head in disbelief, trying to calm herself and hide any outward signs that her agitation was still growing. "Was I dreaming again? When does it end?"

Shepard didn't respond with words, only nestled up closer once again with a kiss on her shoulder.

Liara absentmindedly ran her fingers through her hair, watching the stars.

"Sometimes I can't tell what's real anymore," she said, still gripped with apprehension. "It's like I'm always lost in a dream, and even if I wake up, I'll only find myself one less layer deeper." The strands of Shepard's hair tangled between her fingers as she fidgeted, increasingly restless. She clenched her jaw, determined not to let her tears escape.

"Well, if you're lost in this dream, then I'm glad to be lost here with you. I'm as real as you need me to be."

"But you're really here?"

"I'm here," Shepard reassured her, with soft earnestness and a trail of light kisses, before she settled close beside her.

It wasn't the first night she'd woken confused, tangled in a nightmare that was only partially her own. She was having trouble sloughing off the darkness that hung over her mind.

The silence extended between them, but neither of them returned to sleep.

After a while, staring into the dark, Liara shook her head, spoke. "I'm just so afraid…" Her voice broke, and she tried to regain her composure before continuing, but she didn't have to, Shepard shushing her again, wrapping her arms around her, resting with her cheek on her shoulder. 

"Afraid for us," Shepard said softly, repeating the words Liara had spoken more than once, many a restless night spent lying in this very spot, staring out at the expanse of stars beyond, knowing what inescapable terrors lay both in sleep and in wakefulness, depending on her to keep her afloat. "Afraid for the future. I know." She exhaled. "I know."

"Shepard, I…" Liara faltered, shifting so she could look her in the eye, "I don't know if it will work, but… I have been thinking for some time now. I'd like to ask something of you." She cupped her cheek in her hand, her thumb skimming over her lips. "Ask if we can try."

Shepard's expression softened further as realization took hold, barely visible in the dim light. She swallowed. "You can ask me anything."

Liara inhaled deeply, forcing a wry, nervous smile, preparing the words in her mind.

⁂

Liara opened her eyes to a white expanse, the zing of the light painful. She squinted. Something wasn't right.

There were voices and a squeeze at her hand, and after that, every sensation grew indistinct. She closed her eyes and a heavy bout of drowsiness overtook her before she had a chance to reach out for a familiar presence, or to question the error in continuity.

⁂

Her awareness rolled in as a slow crescendo over a barrage of incoming sensory information.

First came the sound of steady beeping.

Then came an indistinct understanding of herself as a being possessing a physical form.

Finally, comprehension of language, however muddled.

"From the latest scans it still appears there shouldn't be any catastrophic neurological damage or significant long-term deficit, but in the short term, we should still continue to monitor her for any changes and keep her comfortable."

"Are the physical restraints really necessary?"

"Again, we don't know if her intended target was them or herself, but the biotic attack she unleashed was unfocused and uncontrolled. She'll wake up confused, and I don't want anything to happen if she panics."

"She's still on suppressants?"

"She is." 

The voices fell silent, the only sound remaining the irksome beeping.

"Call for backup just in case — familiar faces, mind you — but I don't want her awaking feeling like a prisoner, Sedanna. It will only add to her distress."

Liara's eyes opened, and everything snapped into relative clarity.

"Can you…" she began to say, but instead of hearing her voice, a raspy, croaking sound escaped. "Can someone turn off that beeping?" Something itched on her forehead, but when she went to scratch it, she found her arm wouldn't move. She attempted to move both arms, once. Again. Then again, more forcefully. There was resistance at both wrists.

"She's already awake?"

"Liara, you're okay, please stay calm. I'll be right there as soon as I can."

There were a few shuffling footsteps out of her line of sight, and the beeping stopped.

Liara balled her fists and braced against the restraints. "Wh—where am I?" A hand pressed against her own, and she relaxed. The straps fell away.

Dr. Chakwas looked down at her. "You're on the _Normandy_, dear."

"Wh…" 

"You had a bit of an accident." As Dr. Chakwas spoke, Dr. V'Leera [6] came into view, approaching and standing beside her colleague. "You may not remember much, but you were injured and still need rest. Please, just relax, you're going to be okay, but you're going to need to take it easy for some time."

"Wha… what happened? Where's Shepard?"

"I'm going to get you some ice chips, dear. Your throat must feel awfully raw."

Liara watched her until she disappeared out of easy sight without having to lift her head. She shifted her gaze to Dr. V'Leera, who stood over her, expressionless and stoic.

"I'm going to sit you up now," she said.

Liara gave a weak nod. Dr. V'Leera pushed a button, raising the head of the bed.

A different angle of the med bay slowly panned into blurry view. She closed her eyes to quell the ensuing nausea.

"Here you are." Dr. Chakwas appeared at her side again, too promptly it seemed, the few moments having slipped by her. She handed Liara the cup, pulled up a nearby chair, and sat. "How are you feeling? Do you have any pain?"

"I don't…" she began, an uncertain mumble. She stared absently at the ice in her cup. "I don't think I'm in pain."

"Excellent," Chakwas said, without inflection. Sincerely, but solemnly. She paused for a few seconds, glancing toward Dr. V'Leera.

Liara sucked on a small piece of ice, the chill of it on her tongue like tasting water for the first time. What was supposed to be flavorless was overwhelming.

"Liara," said Dr. Chakwas. At the sound of her name, Liara looked up at her. "I don't mean to cause alarm, but you've been asleep for a while. I expect you're still a bit disoriented."

"I'm…" Her eyes scanned the room, came to rest on the monitors above, her vitals displayed as stacks of numbers supplemented by wavy-lined graphs. She noted the drab pattern of the curtain around her bed offering partial privacy. The bright lights on the ceiling. No window to the stars outside.

A hollow, burning, nagging feeling bubbled up in her chest.

"Where is Shepard?" she repeated, feebly.

Was it the way they looked at her, their expressions neutral in a calculated manner, blank yet somehow gawking, that shattered the illusion? Indistinct apprehension burst into full-fledged, agonizing despair. Memories slammed into her mind all at once like a shock of cold, bitter rain, and the icy fingers of recollection took hold, running through her mind and trickling down her spine. Her breath caught in her lungs and her body tensed in trembling convulsion, unable to bear the assault of every piece of memory pelting into her.

And then came the harsh onslaught of ugly, inconsolable sobs.

Hands caught her shoulders and tried to hold her upright as she doubled over, lost to violent waves of sorrow. She shrugged both doctors off, curling onto her side with knees pressed to her chest, fingers raking at her forehead and at her crest as if trying to expunge the memories and relieve the excruciating pressure. Her head split with pain and her chest felt hollow to the point of implosion.

No one said anything. How pitiful it was to have broken like this in front of them, but there wasn't much more to care about, no real use in keeping up appearances of any sort. The waves of sobs continued with no choice but to ride them out, her senses overfull with both overwhelming numbness and pain, oblivious to any outside stimuli.

Curled up, laying on her side, she was alone, trapped again in _this_ reality, tangled in the mess of wires and tubes that kept her here, closely observed by machines and by people but nevertheless alone.

Her sobs slowly, gradually abated. Her jagged gasps grew smaller and smoother. Eventually she realized someone was rubbing her shoulder, probably had been for the entire outburst and the time it took for her to calm. Her hands grew limp at her forehead.

"How long?" Liara whispered.

"Four days."

Four days she couldn't account for. Four days the galaxy around her passed her by, indifferent to her survival. Four days they all sat on this rock, in this husk of metal and plastic and glass and eezo that was no longer, in its current state, a ship. This world — this unknown, unforgiving planet — meant nothing to her but to hold her prisoner, the price to pay its escape velocity. A price she had her doubts could be attained. They weren't spaceworthy. She could ask, but in her current state, did she really want to know? Four days for their engineers to run diagnostics, to run their simulations and predict what was realistic. The realization that they may not get off this rock sat like a pit in her stomach. This couldn't be her future.

Out there, tens — hundreds? — of light-years away, four days likewise passed as the Citadel orbited Earth.

Surely, by now, someone had at least recovered the body.

She hoped those who did bore no ill will.

That may be too much to hope for.

Her lip trembled. She sniffled and wiped her nose.

Dr. Chakwas broke the grave silence that had descended. "It was a bit touch and go for a while. We're lucky to have Dr. V'Leera onboard to oversee your case."

"I'm not supposed to be here," Liara sniveled.

"I'd rather not think in those terms."

She shivered — not from feeling cold — and drew her arms around herself, mouthing the same words she'd spoken last.

Not supposed to be here.

_Not supposed to be here._

And yet, when she tried to think back, tried to recall the exact circumstances that led to her laying here, on this stiff bed with its scratchy sheets in _Normandy_'s med bay, she could not remember. There were snippets, flashes of memory appearing in her mind without context. Every realization, any comprehension of her situation, escaped as quickly as it had arrived.

What she could comprehend, however, was pain. As her senses began returning to her, so did the many different qualities and intensities of pain. So swathed in it, she couldn't distinguish the physical from the emotional. 

Liara squeezed her arms tightly around herself, and in doing so, felt the band on her left ring finger. She'd grown so accustomed to it being there in the months following the official bonding that she rarely noticed it. Now that the circumstances were different, it was again in the forefront of her attention. A bitter ache pressed on her chest once again as she blinked away her tears.

"What happened?" she ventured, voice still scratchy and tremulous. She could probably, given enough time, sift through her mind to find the missing pieces lost in the haze of her disorientation. But right now, it was more effort than it was worth, every thought slipping away as soon as she believed she had a hold on it.

She spun the ring around her finger with her thumb.

"Liara," Dr. Chakwas began, gesturing with the cup of now-melted ice that had somehow been transferred to her, unbeknownst to Liara. "I know there's a lot to take in right now, and I know you're overwhelmed. But I think it would be best if we start with lunch. Some proper nutrition and you'll at least feel marginally better."

"I'm not hungry," she mumbled, face still pressed into the bed, squashing her nose into the sheets as if to shield her irritated airways from the cold parched air, too potent and overwhelming and reeking of antiseptics.

"Lunch will be brought to you regardless of your preference," added Dr. V'Leera sternly. "You need to eat."

She frowned, the sheets scratchy and damp on her face as her muscles tensed in the expression.

Dr. Chakwas spoke into Liara's silence. "What's most important right now is that you're here, you're in good hands, and you're going to be okay."

Not going to accuse her of what she'd done to get herself in this predicament to begin with. That, she figured, was for after she'd eaten.

Both doctors waited by her bedside, perhaps waiting for acknowledgment, perhaps not, but regardless of their reasons, she did not move. Continued to stare blankly ahead.

Dr. Chakwas eventually left the room, leaving Liara under the watchful, if disdainful eye of Dr. V'Leera. The temperature of the room seemed to drop just from the ice in her gaze, despite her being out of Liara's visual range.

Though it seemed at times she had a turian VI program projected onto her personality in place of a proper bedside manner, someone with her CV could be excused of such shortcomings. She'd requested to join the team, and Shepard had hand-picked her for her expertise in biotic neurology. It wasn't that Liara disliked the doctor, but she had a strong suspicion Dr. V'Leera did not like _her_, for reasons she could only speculate. 

Having already been acquainted with Dr. Chakwas during her time on the SR-1, she'd never been under Dr. V'Leera's care directly. That is, until now. She hoped whatever animosity or judgment she detected previously was imagined, having never spent more than five minutes consecutively in her direct attention, her role on the SR-2 more focused on the human biotics. At the very least, she hoped she could trust the doctor to remain impartial now, regardless of the fact she was no longer in mortal danger. She did have her to thank for that, if what Dr. Chakwas suggested was true, and despite her current feelings on the matter, however confusing. But moral and professional obligations aside, she knew who she could suspect if any part of her stay ended up inexplicably more uncomfortable than it needed to be.

When Dr. Chakwas returned with her meal, relieving Dr. V'Leera, Liara still did not budge from her fetal position.

She set the tray down on Liara's bedside table, articulating the arm to bring the tray within easy reach.

"I know you said you didn't want to eat, but I need you to try. I hope you'll at least find some of this palatable." 

Liara could see out of the corner of her eye she gestured to the tray's contents, but the smell was all but appetizing.

She said nothing, did not move, and made no effort to acknowledge her or the food.

Dr. Chakwas picked up something from the tray and went to hand it to her.

"Here, sit up," she said, kindly, but firmly. She tapped her on the shoulder. "This is a light soup. Let's start with that."

Liara still remained motionless, and Dr. Chakwas gave her shoulder a repeated nudge. She rolled over, scooted herself up to a seated position on the bed. The small exertion took more out of her than it should have, her breathing slightly labored and her heart thumping. She begrudgingly took the mug, which held a partially translucent broth.

"There we are."

She stared at the swirls in the broth, watching the flow of the tiny currents as hot liquid rose to the surface, then fell as it cooled. She didn't further acknowledge her.

"I'll be at my desk if you need me," she offered, then disappeared behind the curtains.

It was an odd sensation, knowing what she needed to do, mostly even wanting to do so, but finding herself utterly frozen. But she also knew the quickest way to appease the doctors, to increase their willingness to provide her with information, was to do as they said. 

She managed to finish her meal, and when she came to check on her, she pleaded exhaustion (the truth) and slept.

⁂

Several hours later, she awoke naturally, and at the sound of her stirring, Dr. Chakwas peeked through the curtains, offering her a nod and a warm smile.

"How are you feeling now?"

Liara said nothing.

She didn't know what to say.

She was overcome by her emotions, dull yet potent, every wisp of a feeling that surfaced seemingly possessing its own simultaneous contradiction. On the verge of panic, yet too exhausted for it to truly take hold. Full of bitter remorse, yet still cognizant of the bleakness of everyone's situation, not just her own, still shocked, terrified of what it meant to still be alive.

There was still so much to be done, and being at the forefront of an effort to do anything possible to break this cycle of galactic extinction had burned a routine into every fiber of her being. Sleep and comfort had not been a priority. Rest came in short, fitful bursts. Injuries from planetside missions healed while she stared at her terminals, directing her agents and reallocating support where it was needed most. Meals were likewise eaten while multitasking.

It was possible the fight still raged on. In that case, their goal would be survival.

It was possible they had succeeded, Shepard dealing the final blow to the Reapers' seemingly unstoppable onslaught as the _Normandy_ leaped into FTL. In that case, their goal would still be survival.

She wasn't useful trapped in the med bay. The air left a bitter taste in her mouth, and the inactivity pained her and left her fitful and aching.

She tried to bring herself to argue the point of her confinement. But every thought she could attempt to articulate scrambled on its way to her tongue, before she could even begin to form the words.

Dr. Chakwas approached and sat at her chair beside the bed. "I know I'm riding a fine line between irritating and helpful right now, but as your doctor, and also as your friend, I need to do my best to give _you_ the tools you need to pick yourself up," she said, as if somehow aware of Liara's inner turmoil. "I think I know you well enough to know you need a sort of concrete plan. You're probably thinking your ideal concrete plan involves doing your part to get us off this rock and back home. I can't give that to you right now, though I do have a plan, some assignments for you. If you are willing to listen…"

"It's bad, is it not?"

Dr. Chakwas made a sound as if she were searching for words.

"I am not referring to myself," Liara clarified, "but to our general situation."

She let out a deflated huff. "This is not a conversation for here or for now." As if speaking to herself, she continued, "You're looking for a reason to go on. You're here, but you feel you've been left behind."

Liara frowned in acknowledgment.

"We need you here, but it's not going to be as simple as walking out that door. You have much to do, and we're going to have to start by building up your strength, both mental and physical."

"But will you at least tell me something?" She knew, felt she had all the pieces, but found she could not assemble them in her current state, which was distressing in and of itself. She needed to hear it to at least calm her mind.

"Severe ekphersitis [7]," she offered, stern professionalism taking over as she shifted the topic of their conversation, and Liara's frown intensified. "We suspect you lost consciousness several times and still managed to override your body's natural defenses. You were in a stupor when Garrus and Tali found you in the forest, and only because you flashed your biotics. As if you wanted to be found."

Liara thought back to the moment she was referring to, remembered that it wasn't her intention, but she didn't care to make a correction. Too much explaining for no real benefit.

Chakwas continued into her silence, "When our team returned with you, it was a struggle at first to balance eezo supplementation with drugs to suppress your biotics. Neglect the former and we would risk degradation of your nervous system, neglect the latter and your body would have continued to overreact with similar repercussions." She looked her in the eye with unblinking intensity. "You were extremely lucky to have been able to even wake up from the sedation once we put you under. But you pulled through.

"And it's likewise miraculous you seem to have skirted any dire consequences, and as long as we ensure to tailor your medication regimen to your condition as you heal, you are not in any imminent danger."

Dr. Chakwas fell silent, perhaps to let the gravity of the situation set in, or to wait for some indication of Liara's acknowledgment or understanding. 

In the abstract, it made sense, but there was an undeniable disconnect that prevented the expected emotional impact from taking hold. The shock of waking up had been enough. Hearing the reasons why she shouldn't have woken at all was another. Liara fidgeted, kneading her hands and fiddling with her ring.

"But… you did do some damage," Dr. Chakwas said, her tone somber. Liara nodded vacantly, automatically. "It's difficult to say how much it will affect you years down the line, but both Dr. V'Leera and I predict that your biotic efficiency will be permanently impacted. There are measures we can take — and have been taking — to mitigate that, but there is only so much we can do."

"I understand," she said, eyes downturned.

"Your other injuries were mostly limited to moderate bruising and lacerations, but your knee needed surgical repair. A basic procedure, but a necessary one. And you took a hit to your crest we tried to patch up as best we could, but it will very well scar." Chakwas offered a weak, apologetic smile. "All that said… I think you know what injury we are all most concerned about now."

She paused, her demeanor softening from the slightly bristled clinical, her tone taking on a quality that Liara knew was coming not from the doctor, but from the friend she had known from the beginning. One hundred and ten years old, and she felt her whole lifetime contained within the last (almost) four years.

"I know it would be an understatement to say it's a lot to take in. But I'm going to say it anyway: it's a lot. It's a lot for all of us." Dr. Chakwas placed a hand on Liara's shoulder. "I know right now it seems like no consolation, but I need you to try to believe we're happy you're still with us."

Liara stopped fidgeting, briefly, and made reluctant eye contact.

Though the doctor spoke passionately, Liara noticed for the first time the pallor of her complexion, her eyes marked with the heaviness of exhaustion. She shrunk and returned to unconsious, nervous motion.

"We're all here trying what we can to put one foot in front of the other," Chakwas continued, "because as much as we wished and hoped with all our might that we could heave a heavy sigh of relief for once, it's more complicated than that, and it's all we can do to just keep on going. It's all most of us have ever known, and I know you share that sentiment. So please, know you have a purpose here, we're all counting on each other. You have those shoulders to lean on. To cry on. Even if they're not the shoulders you prefer. But we're here for you."

"What aren't you telling me?" Liara activated her omni-tool and with a few lazy gestures saw, with a sinking feeling, her access to ship data had been revoked. Despite her words, she couldn't shake the feeling. _Alone._

"I believe it's a bit early for that. I'd really rather you continue to get some nutrition and some more rest — actual rest, not induced — and then we can go over specifics. Baby steps. Focus on putting one foot in front of the other."

Liara frowned in response to Dr. Chakwas's encouraging smile, the multiple orange windows still glowing above her wrist even as she folded her arms across her chest.

⁂

One foot in front of the other, in the literal sense, was at least something she could focus her efforts on.

The next day — several more small meals consumed, plenty of naps had over the course of _Normandy_'s night cycle — they began the process of shedding her dependence on medical devices.

Deemed neurologically stable enough to be rid of the brainwave and biotics monitors, the pesky wires and sticky leads were pulled off her forehead and crest.

It was a start.

After a meal and a yet another nap that came on unexpectedly swiftly, as was becoming a trend, Dr. Chakwas returned with her first assignment: proving sufficient ability to walk unassisted.

Hands gripping the frame of the walker, Liara prepared herself to complete another circuit around the med bay.

"This time," the doctor instructed, "I'd like you to try bearing about twenty percent more weight on the bad leg. Just estimate, and don't push yourself if you feel like the knee will buckle. I just want to get an idea of where your recovery is."

Liara shifted some of her weight off her right leg and took her first step, not letting the pain show on her face. Without something to lean against, the knee would be useless.

"How was that?"

"A bit painful, but it is tolerable."

"Good. Let's keep it up."

Liara did so, leaning onto her injured leg a bit more. She winced, falling forward with her full weight on the frame, arms weak and trembling, on the verge of giving out.

"I warned you not to overdo it," Dr. Chakwas chastised, helping her upright. "It's going to be quite tender. It's a soft tissue injury, so it's important to have you up and about as soon as it's safe, but only if you don't manage to overdo it and injure what we've just fixed. Moderation, please, or I'll have Dr. V'Leera take over."

"She's a neurologist," Liara sneered. "What would she know about knees?"

"This isn't about knowledge of knees, or lack thereof, but of _melding_," she said, guiding Liara back to her bed.

"I don't want her in my head."

"Then you need to listen to your body's signals. Heaven knows you're entirely capable of overriding them." Dr. Chakwas rubbed her forehead, failing to hide her frustration. "It's not just about your knee, or your pain tolerance. I may need to call on her to shoulder some of your burden."

"I don't. Want her. In. My. Head," Liara grunted, gritting her teeth, her voice an aggressive crescendo with each word.

"It was a reckless thing you did," Chakwas snapped, patience worn thin. "Impulsive and self-destructive to a degree I'd be more likely to expect to see in —" She stopped, deflated. Shepard was a part of her — the doctor obviously knew — but the sentence slipped out in her agitated state. When she spoke again, her voice was gentle, mournful even. "We can't afford, as a team, to take another hit to our morale like that." She sighed lengthily, expelling her emotions with it. "I'm going to see how bending the knee is for you. Swing your legs onto the bed."

Liara obliged.

"I've known you for some time now," Chakwas said, manipulating Liara's knee, "and I like to think I have a pretty good idea of what makes you tick. I know I can't keep you in the dark for long. You'll go mad without knowing details. 'I can handle it,' you're thinking. You don't want to be coddled. There's a lot to catch you up on, but we need to give it to you in controlled doses. Right now, in this state, you're not ready. And I know that infuriates you. That's why I want to call on Dr. V'Leera."

"It won't help." Liara was unsure if it was the truth. Either way, it wouldn't matter.

Dr. Chakwas scoffed. "We already spoke about it. She's certain she can at least offer you some stability. Some clarity. And you are in no position to reject an outstretched hand."

"And if I refuse her treatment?" Liara said, voice strained as Dr. Chakwas applied pressure to a tender spot on her knee.

"Then that's your prerogative. Unless you are willing to accept the meld, it obviously won't work. But I will have you know I find that mindset ill-advised, as will Dr. V'Leera."

Liara stared straight ahead and said nothing.

"You took some of Shepard's pain. She told me as much. If anything, do it for her. She wouldn't have wanted to see you like this," Dr. Chakwas said solemnly.

If only it were that simple. At the mention of Shepard's name, a heavy, mournful rage boiled from deep within her core that would have, under normal circumstances, brought a ripple of dark energy around her. But with the suppressants still in her system, all that she managed was to make herself queasy. The tension in her muscles slackened, left shaky and weak.

Dr. Chakwas pressed on. "You survived. And we're all out here, doing our best in the fight to make things right. You're alive, you're alright, and you're right where you need to be. Make the most of it. It's what she —"

"She _is_ dead then. You know, or you believe it enough to insinuate it to me."

"I'm not insinuating anything," Chakwas said, vehemently, but not without irritation, and would have likely thrown up her hands had she not been preoccupied with Liara's knee. "We don't know. None of us know. But you need to listen to yourself. Do you really believe you are without purpose without her? Simply a broken piece of a whole?" She shook her head and lowered her voice. "It's a very un-asari mindset."

Liara's face contorted in her attempt to hold back another flood of tears.

"I'm no expert on the topic of the joining, but I know she lives on in you in a very real way. At the very least, I need you to internalize that. See it for its positives, for its wonder. I need it to carry you forward because right now, it's paralyzing you instead." Dr. Chakwas looked at her earnestly. "Draw strength from it."

She didn't look away until Liara gave her a small nod.

"What does strength matter if all I'm going to do is lie here?" Liara gestured to the omni-tool cuff on her left wrist, hoping the doctor would take the hint about her access to data. "Is there not any way I can make myself useful?"

"I need you to understand that the best thing you can do, right now, is to focus on your recovery. I am going to be brutally honest with you, because I know if I'm not, that's what you'd ask of me immediately following whatever half-truth I'd provide. So I'm going to spare you that version." She paused, as if awaiting approval. 

"Please, continue."

"I know you likely know in theory what ekphersitis means, but I'm not sure if you fully understand what living it will entail. You are going to find once your cocktail of medications wears off that you are quite unwell, and will continue to be for some time. It is of vital importance, now, that we keep a close eye on you for many reasons, most of which I assume you can guess, but mind and body alike you need supervised period of rest and recovery. Let us help you."

"But how long will that be?" Liara said, discouragement tinging her voice almost to the point of whining.

"I can't yet say with certainty. When the time is right, we will let you know."

"But what am I supposed to _do_ until that time?" She thought of the limited output shown on her 'tool, of the permissions stripped while she'd been asleep. Informational privileges she no longer possessed. The news couldn't be good.

"You are supposed to _rest_. Log into the entertainments library. Watch a show. Better that than stare blankly at a wall all your waking hours."

Liara didn't bother to argue. Despite all the ways she'd considered to escape back to her own quarters, by means of stealth, coercion, or force, she had to acknowledge the crushing weakness and fatigue would keep her from being useful, if that was her intent behind leaving. Morbid curiosity was another. Every moment spent in the dark about their situation did nothing but add to her growing sense of dread.

It was convenient, then, that every time the bitter anxiety started to bubble up from her stomach again, it was time for her next small meal, and she couldn't fight the heaviness of her eyes as sleep begged to take her once again.

⁂

As promised, Dr. V'Leera announced her presence later that day, waking her with the impatient tapping of her stylus against her datapad.

Liara's eyelids fluttered and she held them open with no small effort.

"Are you awake? Alert? I'd like to talk," Dr. V'Leera said flatly.

It wasn't a suggestion, so she sat at the bedside without waiting for an affirmative response.

"Dr. Chakwas has done her part to apprise you of your situation. Do you have any questions of me?"

Liara pursed her lips. "No."

"As anticipated." _Tap-tap-tap_ went the stylus on the datapad, and Liara realized she was taking handwritten notes — a quirk, and an archaic one at that. She watched as the curls of the elaborate, condensed script of Arlees [8] faded as they were parsed and automatically typeset by her datapad program. "Have you given additional consideration to undergoing a series of melding treatments? Joined meditations?"

Liara's mind wandered, her eyes stuck tracing the loops of the stylus tip against the datapad, and did not hear the question.

"I'm sorry, can you repeat that?"

V'Leera did, with no visible change in demeanor or outward indication she was annoyed. Her usual tone verged on coldness, so it was hard to tell.

Liara rubbed the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. "No, because no additional consideration was needed. I still stand by my original decision."

"I still maintain a melding regimen is integral to your recovery — a medical necessity, I posit, you can ill afford to refuse. But as you are aware, as an individual deemed of sound mind, we do not possess any real power over you, nor can we subject you to treatment involuntarily," Dr. V'Leera explained, her inflection changing ever so slightly as to indicate she disagreed with Dr. Chakwas's assessment of Liara's mental status, but as her subordinate, couldn't overrule it. She waved her stylus in the air in a gesture of acquiescence. "That being said, I reiterate: I strongly advise you reconsider your stance."

If Dr. V'Leera didn't know her well enough to understand she was never ambivalent on the matter — and thus would not convince her — she had no place rifling through her mind.

"Your medical opinion is duly noted, Doctor," Liara said, scowling in her irritation. 

"As is your own nonmedical opinion, _Doctor_." She stressed Liara's title with ice in her voice over a peppering of _tap-tap-tap-tap_s. "I cannot guarantee results — therapeutic joining is not a panacea, even when undertaken by an expert — but I'd at least like to help you ease the pain of your loss and get rid of those nightmares."

Liara shook her head rapidly in surprise, grimacing at the pain it caused. "Lucky guess, seeing as I am not your patient."

"But Commander Shepard was."

Of course.

But the way she said the name, and the implications invoking it held — her voice cold, her face robotically expressionless — hit Liara like a bludgeon and the pain in her head flared anew. 

Or maybe it was just that she was unconsciously gnashing her teeth.

The words Dr. V'Leera scribbled with her stylus appeared backwards through the transparent screen from Liara's viewpoint, but she managed to read them even before they dissolved and reappeared as neatly typed sentences.

  
Continued observations:

Impetuous. Obstinate. Codependent to an unhealthy and unnatural degree, and because of that, unsure of how much original personality remains after being overwhelmed or otherwise tarnished with PS's dominant traits. Bonded too soon, too deeply. Likely could not retain sense of self. Explains the shared nightmares reported by PS.  


If the pain hadn't won over, Liara may have cracked a tooth or burst a blood vessel from the pressure of her boiling anger. As she sank back down to a lying position rubbing her forehead, pinching the bridge of her nose, she couldn't help but wonder if V'Leera's conspicuous notetaking was an intentional slight, an attempt at provocation, or some sort of test. 

A renewed wave of pain and nausea sapped her energy to think further or maintain her rage.

"What I mean is it was not a 'lucky guess,'" Dr. V'Leera said, continuing to jot on her datapad, either genuinely oblivious to Liara's near-meltdown or doing an admirable job of pretending to be. "I got to know Shepard, so naturally, I got to know you by extension."

"Mmmm," Liara moaned, both in acknowledgment and in pain.

"Well, I suppose since you are forgoing treatment at this time, I'll leave you to be," she said, concluding her written note with a flourish of her stylus, which would have seemed at odds against the rest of her austere manner had she not done so with such deliberate intensity. She then rose from her seat in a fluid motion and drew the curtains shut.

Had it not been for the crushing exhaustion, dulling Liara's mind and emotions, she would have had to deliberately hold back any incoming flood of tears or otherwise weep silently with Dr. V'Leera still in the room. But she didn't have to worry about the curtains only offering visual privacy. The tears did not come.

⁂

Time in the med bay seemed to progress nonlinearly.

Still seething over the events after her meeting with Dr. V'Leera, the rest of her second day dragged on at times, but at others, she could glance away from the wall clock, and the next thing she knew, a whole hour had passed with no train of thought to recall to account for it. Had she simply misread the initial hour, or was her mind so fragile in this state that she couldn't keep track of time, or her thoughts, or both?

In the moments that time slowed, her mind unfocused but plagued with boredom, she resigned to take up Dr. Chakwas's suggestion and peruse the med bay's available entertainments on her omni-tool.

The vid library contained a multitude of titles, most of them not of much interest to her, all of them proving to be lighthearted and humorous. No way at all that was a coincidence. She searched the index of written materials — magazines, novels, collections of poetry and short stories — and found a similar trend applied there as well. Emotionally sheltered and coddled, scrutinized and locked up — albeit just short of physical restraints, though a knee that couldn't bear weight just about served as such. She was but a prisoner. Still hooked up to a couple machines, she couldn't be certain if they were still pumping her full of biotic suppressants unless she attempted something unwise. Her world still rippled and twisted around her, everything in her vision tilted just enough to be aggravating but not enough to be incapacitating. It was possible she'd feel better if she stopped the flow of medication, a fleeting thought. But it was unlikely. As much as she hated to admit it, she suspected she'd only feel worse.

She flipped through the catalog of entertainment again, eyes skimming the titles, hand swiping them aside in absentminded rhythm until she reached the end. Began the process anew, eyes blurring out a little more each time. Everything unappealing at the moment, not to her tastes. Besides, the headache would make enjoyment difficult. 

She opted for a radio show and made her selection. It was a musical program with an interesting enough premise, though only read-along translation was available, so she'd have to forgo understanding the lyrics. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, a distinct ache setting in her chest as the silvery drone of the _pariambi_ stirred the well of her memories, and she tried with all her resolve to clear her mind of the violet glow of Widow as its rays scattered through the nebula, the way the diffuse light seemed so mysterious and unnatural and blended with the neon signs in the haze of winding narrow alleys, the taste of eggplant and okra, of _shaari_ and rosewater, of walking in the grandeur of the Dilinaga Concert Hall, her heart fluttering and swelling with feelings for another, feelings she had yet to understand, the overwhelming senses of a time and place and state of being flooding into her mind with such potent and bittersweet nostalgia it was almost intolerable.

All destroyed, never again to return.

⁂

She awoke to a commotion of trudging and scuffing footsteps and various grunts of exertion as the med bay's entry hatch sprung open.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, what seems to be the problem here?" Dr. V'Leera sounded apathetic despite her choice of words. 

At the end of her bed, through a small gap in the curtains, she could see Dr. V'Leera setting her datapad down on the front desk and rising calmly from her seat in stark contrast to the energy of the unseen scuffle. Liara remained quiet and still despite it being unlikely anyone could sleep through the scene playing out only several meters away.

"I'm _fine_, now get off me," Joker said.

"Fractured hand from the looks of it, Doctor," an unfamiliar voice offered, likely security.

"Yeah, now let go."

"Stop testing." Another voice, likewise security, if Liara's guess was correct.

"Unacceptable behavior." Dr. V'Leera tapped, though this time it was boot against floor instead of stylus on datapad. "Bring him over here and I'll have a look."

"Stop resisting, you heard the doctor."

From the scuffling and skidding of boots upon the floor, Liara could surmise that he didn't stop being uncooperative, and received confirmation as such when her curtain caught and pulled open as the three of them dragged by, giving her a full view of the scene unfolding before her.

Dr. V'Leera continued to tap impatiently, standing rigidly at a free examination table across the room from Liara's bed, waiting for the two security officers to escort an (almost literally) kicking and screaming Joker toward her.

Liara's "room," such that it was, had been dimmed for the night cycle, but even with the new flood of light, and her stirring, none of the four individuals seemed to notice or acknowledge her.

"Now what exactly happened?"

"Major Alenko reminded him, again, not to ignore Dr. Chakwas's notice that it was time for his treatment, and he flipped out and punched the console he was working at."

"There's no time!" Joker wailed.

"It wasn't urgent," the security officer clarified, "he just told him to check in once Dr. Chakwas's shift started at 0600, which isn't for a few hours."

"Well, it looks like thanks to you, I'll be paging her to come in early." V'Leera made a few short taps at her 'tool, so quickly the orange glow around her wrist faded almost as soon as it had appeared. "And now it appears he has two medical treatments to receive, as well as being relieved of duty for the time being."

"Yeah, and what's that gonna help?" Joker said, face flushed with anger. "Wasting time! A fucking waste!"

"That is enough," said Dr. V'Leera.

"We need everyone — _everyone_ — here to do their part!"

"And yet you are providing more than sufficient information for me to agree that you are incapable of doing _your part_. Take a seat."

Joker did not take a seat. "Right, and at this rate we'll have half our people drugged and useless in sick bay or tied up in the brig. Just what we need, we can all agree on that, can't we?!"

"Stop. Or I will restrain and sedate you."

"And you," Joker sneered, pointing at Liara, "_you_ need to understand that your actions have consequences for the rest of us. Maybe if you hadn't pulled that little stunt, I wouldn't be like this. You think you're the only one who lost someone?"

Liara bolted upright, dumbfounded, at this first sign that he acknowledged her presence, and at the absurdity of the accusation. Nevertheless feeling exposed, no longer feigning sleep and blending into her surroundings.

"Stop," commanded Dr. V'Leera, glaring at Joker until he sat on the edge of the bed.

Joker pressed on, still pointing at Liara as the doctor waved for security to give her some room. "You act like only your sorrow matters."

"You need to stop," V'Leera said, examining his hand, which was quickly turning a shade of dark purple similar to her skin tone. "We're all under a lot of stress here, but it's no excuse for this childishly erratic behavior." She frowned, then marched over to Liara's bed and drew the curtains closed.

"Oh yeah?" Joker mocked, bitter and disrespectful sarcasm.

"I think it would be wise to turn your behavior around," she said, still on Liara's side of the room. 

"Sounds good to me."

Shuffling footsteps sounded again.

"What are you doing?" cried Dr. V'Leera. "That door is locked! Go sit down!"

A crash rang out, followed by an only partially translated string of slurred-together expletives and rapid footfalls.

"What is wrong with you two? What a lapse in attention!" She was yelling now, however uncharacteristic. "Were neither of you going to stop him? Unbelievable inadequacy! This will not happen again!"

"No, ma'am," both security crew said in unison.

"Help me pick him up. He will sleep, and then you will leave." The sound of shuffling preceded a syringe uncapping, and then a wince. V'Leera was obviously in no mood to provide gentleness or comfort.

Five minutes of silence passed.

"Dismissed."

As security turned to make their leave, the entrance hatch opened to the familiar pattern of Dr. Chakwas's footsteps.

There was clinical muttering punctuated by exasperated sighs. 

Liara rolled over in bed, knowing they likely heard the movement, but she nevertheless proceeded to remain as still as possible, listening to their mumbling, pretending not to be aware, trying not to think about the extent of chaos and bad news that lay beyond that door, and how much of it was a result — indirect or not — of her own actions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 6 Dr. Sedanna V'Leera can be recruited to the _Normandy_ in the Expanded Galaxy Mod. Her biography is as follows:
>
>> Dr. Sedanna V'Leera completed her training almost two centuries ago at the University of Mithymna on Thessia, specializing in biotic neurology. After biotics began to appear among humans — and the failure that followed with the Conatix program — she was one of the first to take part in the Alliance's medical exchange program, sharing asari medical technology. She developed a relationship with a human, and eventually moved to Watson with her partner. There, she continued her work, focusing on helping young human biotics control their manifesting abilities, assisting with their integration back into society. Now under wartime conditions, she has returned to active duty, requesting to use her diverse medical knowledge on board the _Normandy_.  

> 
>   
While any future development of her character is my own, she is technically not my original character in name or in concept. [return]
> 
> 7 An acquired condition in which the eezo nodes and surrounding neurological structures become damaged and inflamed, usually due to biotic overtaxing. Ekphersitis generally occurs in highly trained individuals who have learned to bypass the body's natural fainting defense (which normally forces a cooldown period to preserve neurological function and avoid damage). This skill comes with much risk, as once these individuals reach the point of fainting, irreversible damage has already been done. Severe cases are often fatal, as widespread cell death cannot be reversed or compensated for. [return]
> 
> 8 Main dialect of Armali, Thessia. [return]


	8. Chapter 8

_ **07 February 2183** _  
_ **Normandy SR-1: Low orbit over Antibaar** _

Two weeks seemed like no time at all.

But in those two short weeks, Liara had adjusted her life to fall in sync with the 24-hour days and the schedule provided for her. January turned to February on the virtual calendar pinned to her omni-tool's homepage, right beside the more familiar Thessian and Citadel standards, and she learned to conceptualize the ebb and flow of her new life in terms of a new timekeeping metric.

More accurately, according to shipboard time, it had been two weeks plus several days since they'd disembarked from the Citadel, but she found the designation of each week beginning anew with a seven-day periodicity arbitrary, unintuitive, and impractical.

Coping with a 24-hour day wasn't of much consequence. While evolutionary encoding may have her naturally favor Thessia's slightly longer day, she'd spent enough time on planets with wildly varying day/night cycles (as well as having a lifelong penchant for undersleeping) that she'd long before learned to adapt and override those inclinations when necessary.

She was, however, used to being the one giving her own orders, following a different brand of discipline. That is, getting things done on her own terms, which more often than not meant a haphazard schedule that better resembled a complete lack thereof in the day-to-day. The next shortest denomination of time in common use on Thessia being a season, along with most journal submission and grant application deadlines occurring in five-year cycles, meant the rhythm of her work was less chaotic upon zooming out, however difficult it was for shorter-lived species to see.

Here, it was breakfast at 0700 sharp, and not only strict with respect to punctuality, but also to her recommended caloric intake, a calculated value for combat biotics scaled with respect to her current height and weight, in addition to the stipulation that she aim to gain at least one kilogram per week until reaching 115 percent of her initial weight. The first time Dr. Chakwas had brought it up, Liara had thought it in jest — the last thing she'd expected was to be ordered not only to eat more, but drastically so.

Her workout regimen progressed daily in small increments before ramping up quickly. At intake, her physical fitness ranked about average for her age — generally better in stamina than brute strength, which wasn't surprising for someone of her lanky build. There wouldn't be too much incentive for increasing how much she could lift traditionally when she had biotics at her disposal. Neurological brawn would be her specialty, so she needn't bulk up excessively. Instead, she would focus on raising the efficiency and efficacy of her powers, along with her stamina and speed.

It was still less than half the picture. While the ground team went through their rotation taking out geth in the Armstrong cluster, she trained with those who remained in orbit. They could set up obstacles in the cargo hold to mimic a variety of situations, and hardsuit computers could be configured to give readings similar to synthetic hostiles, tech attacks scaled to avoid actual damage, guns firing practice rounds.

She ran through these drills with small teams. And in those two short weeks (plus a few days…), she learned, adapted, grew instincts she didn't realize she possessed, integrated within those varied groups more than she thought possible.

While she hadn't been through any intensive programs in the last fifty or so years, she realized Shepard was definitely right. She should not have discounted her training. Her long-range biotic skills would become useful, if not indispensable, on the field.

Which was why, at the end of those two weeks, she retested against her original baseline, not only improving dramatically, but enough to be given her first assignment planetside to no one's surprise but her own. It was a low-risk assignment, the team having already cleared out the geth base on Antibaar the day before. They'd spotted distant ruins distinctly and unmistakably Prothean — too far out to detour without causing significant delay, but prominent and promising enough to warrant further investigation. Despite the minimal chance of encountering danger or combat, it was an exciting first step, nonetheless.

She was still no marksman, but pistol proficiency would be a work in progress.

And, as she would soon find out, so would getting used to freefall.

There wasn't much to look at, not much to distract herself as she sat strapped in the Mako, which in turn sat in the cargo bay airlock, awaiting deployment.

Liara took conscious control of her breathing, holding onto her safety restraints, gripped by anticipatory nerves and reassured by the comfortable, weighty hug of her armor.

"Pressure equalized," the VI announced.

"Ready when you are," Shepard relayed to Joker. She gave Liara a playful clap on the shoulder and a wink.

Liara forced a nod and a tight smile, the nervousness gnawing at her, sure it was showing even through her attempts at nonchalance.

The airlock burst open and they accelerated forward, her stomach lurching as they tipped over the edge and fell away from the ship in a dizzying blur of light and color. Gripping her safety restraints with hands growing numb, she squinted with eyes pinned on the careening horizon as the landscape below rushed up to meet them.

"Brace for landing," Shepard said coolly, and yanked a lever.

Liara barely registered the thrusters firing before they contacted solid ground. The margin for error too small — and the deceleration too rapid — for comfort.

"That never gets old!" Shepard hollered, beaming.

"You _enjoy_ this?" 

Liara stared at her, horrified. She took a moment to regain her composure, wishing only a few moments before that she had made peace sooner with deities she never even believed in, not needing a mental calculation to know the maximum output of her biotics would never come close to countering the energy with which they would have hit the ground. Unable to cushion their landing, she may as well have just sat tight and said her prayers.

The bumpy ride reminded her she was still alive, corporeal form intact even if her wits were not.

Garrus piped up from the back, "Haven't you heard? Shepard doesn't cut any corners. Always safety first."

"Ouch, sarcasm," Shepard countered with equal bite.

"That is to say, Liara," Garrus continued as if Shepard hadn't spoken, "she always drives like this. And I think that qualified as a soft landing for the newcomer. Hope you've got a tough stomach and nerves of steel."

Shepard scoffed and punched up the onboard display, changing some settings and swerving in her distraction.

"Whoa!" Caught off guard, Liara elbowed the wall to steady herself.

"See what I mean?"

"Oh, come on, we're in the middle of buttfuck nowhere in a near-invincible tank," Shepard said, gesturing to the map on the display. "Mostly smooth sailing. Some rolling hills, just have to watch out for that ravine over there." 

"_Near_-invincible?" Garrus mumbled in protest.

"That's what I said, what's your point?"

He grumbled. "Just don't get any more ideas about what constitutes reasonable excursions outside designated safety parameters, assuming you're aware of them at all. Just like that time —"

"I know where you're going with this," Shepard deadpanned, albeit with a smirk.

"— that time with the lava. 'That's a bad sound,' I recall you saying. 'Huh, I wonder what that alert could mean.' Perhaps I should remind you, _watch out for the lava and RTFM_?" 

"First of all, it's _evasive maneuvers_, thank you very much to everyone involved except for that geth colossus, and second of all, I'll have you know I read the _fuck_ out of that manual."

"I have my doubts about that," he mumbled.

"I heard that."

"Sorry, I have my doubts about that, _Ma'am._"

Liara found her opportunity to speak and did. "Lava? Are you talking about —"

"Therum," they chimed simultaneously.

"That is… not encouraging."

Liara glanced aside. Shepard grinned widely, only for a moment, before her gaze hardened ahead. 

"Liara, pull up the sensors, the location should be marked on the map already."

"Yes, Commander." She tapped at the display, noting the map legend and a warning of erratic weather patterns.

"Garrus? You stay on the gun. I don't expect trouble, but keep an eye out."

It had been difficult to fully take in the surroundings so soon after the drop, her head spinning with the lingering vertigo and the adrenaline pumping from the lurch of freefall and rapid deceleration, but as her nerves and stomach settled, she finally found the ability to sit back and observe.

The terrain stretched out ahead, bleak and barren, visibility low as gusts of wind brought flurries of snow and stirred up a blanket of haze. She kept frequent watch on the topographical display, memorizing the location of their destination in relation to the nearby canyon — a snaking, rugged gash sitting below a stretch of jagged peaks in the otherwise flat geography. It was all she could do, unable to trust her eyes not to make illusions out of the curtains of snow and mist, forming distant mountains and looming monuments where there were none, obscuring danger when it may be imminent.

Their approach was uneventful, their conversation paused, leaving only the groaning winds and dampened shuddering as they traversed the icy terrain. As they drew closer to their destination, a break in the clouds allowed her a better glimpse of the mysterious structure. The sky brightened slightly, curtains of snow momentarily dissipating to reveal strong angular slabs jutting from the ground, the lines and asymmetry of the architecture quintessentially Prothean.

"Helmets on," said Shepard, parking the Mako before securing her own helmet.

Liara craned her neck to look out the window at the looming structure, fiddling with her own helmet fasteners.

Once they'd completed all suit checks and equalized pressures, they ventured outside.

The already anemic daylight faded behind another incoming front of clouds, shadows and swaths of snow and ice alike dissolving into muddled smears of gray.

A low temperature warning beeped in her earpiece and flashed on her visor display, recommending excursions of no more than an hour at full charge given her suit heater's current settings — plenty of time. Pitching her forearm to allow for the best view, she activated her omni-tool to record and photograph as she walked forward, boots crunching on the snow-packed ground, air suddenly whipping past violently enough that she paused to steady herself. She looked over her shoulder to ensure Shepard was close behind.

Distracted, her foot knocked against a rock and she tripped forward, landing with a thud as her knee and hands contacted the uneven ground.

Shepard's voice buzzed in her ear. "You okay there?"

"Yeah," she said, catching her breath. "Just —" _tripped_, she was about to say, but she gasped and withdrew her hand, lurching backward.

Helmet crushed, glass shattered, face sunken and gray and caked with a layer of frozen blood, it was barely recognizable as human, halfway buried with extremities jutting out at unnatural angles from beneath a layer of ice and snow. What was visible of the torso at the surface was strewn with holes.

She sat, momentarily frozen, until Shepard extended a hand and helped her to her feet. "Scavengers," she offered into Liara's nauseated speechlessness before kneeling down to inspect the corpse.

The light of the Tereshkova binary once again cut through a gap in the racing clouds and cast shadows across the ground, every group of what she would have a moment ago assumed in the low visibility to be rocks scattered about in odd clusters she realized, now, were bodies. Twelve, she counted, scanning the area, including the one Garrus knelt over, brushing ice from the hardsuit.

"Looks like it was geth weapons fire, Commander."

"Agreed."

Liara lingered beside her as she scraped snow away from the body. "I think trouble's long past, Liara. It should be safe to go take a look. Go on ahead if you're comfortable."

Liara nodded, brought up her omni-tool again, and took a few shots, panning the camera upward to capture the full height of the structure.

The violent waves of wind and snow rushed in again as abruptly as they'd passed. Her breath was loud in her ears, and with the combination of the whipping winds and adrenaline — the latter from multiple sources now, apprehension and excitement and curiosity — it was difficult to keep her arm still as she approached the monument, the video jerking and swaying. She tapped her finger on the display to take a still capture.

As the photo snapped, her boot contacted another obstacle. She stumbled but managed not to fall.

Clamping her mouth shut to suppress a whimper and another wave of queasiness, she still couldn't override the impulse to look downward.

This one was geth. Her relief about whatever disrespect she was paying was only momentary. It was somehow different when they were synthetic, too far removed from herself to elicit the same visceral horror. But her small sigh devolved into something twisting and even more nauseating than the realization she'd felt before.

Armored plates crushed and torn and wires frayed made it nearly unrecognizable compared to its original form. The few nearby were likewise destroyed, some crushed and folded in half, others missing limbs entirely. Her spine tingled, and she glanced behind her. Shepard and Garrus continued to examine the human bodies and would soon follow behind her, able to draw their own conclusions about what had caused such damage. She looked down at the ruined geth once more, its body flattened but oddly spared from any sign of firearms attack. Pushing those thoughts aside, she took the few steps onto the Prothean monument's circular podium.

She'd encountered structures like these before. Most possessed a centerpiece that was often thought to store a data cache, though the vast majority of those discovered had already been destroyed or looted. This one was no different. Taking a knee, she ran a gloved hand over the low compartment to open the hinged top but found it empty. She snapped a few pictures of the device, scanned the design of the hinges, recorded the subtle etching on the lid. Standing, she walked the circumference and continued to photograph and scan what remained.

What purpose these structures served at the height of Prothean civilization — if they served one at all — had yet to be elucidated. The remoteness alone of ones she'd encountered or read about before, with this example being no exception, was enough for her to envision it as nothing more than a symbolic grave marker for a long-extinct people, barely worn away by time yet surrounded by no other obvious signs or ruins of the fallen civilization that built it.

She approached one of the jutting slabs and focused her camera on a series of barely visible runes.

"Liara, you gotta wrap up ASAP. Head back to the Mako now."

She took the picture and didn't bother to deactivate her 'tool as she turned to run toward the group.

"I am on my way. What's going on?"

"I'll explain in a moment. Right now I need you to hurry, but tread softly."

Her breath came out in a huff, but rising nervousness stifled her impulse to ask more. She lengthened her strides and softened her footfalls, quickening her pace as every inhale and exhale hissed in her ears in the confines of her helmet. The rugged, icy ground crunched under her boots.

She trained her eyes on Shepard, waiting about twenty meters ahead. 

A gust of wind kicked up a spray of ice crystals, swirls of sublimated gas catching the light as the clouds parted. She could have sworn the cold cut through her suit as she leaned to counter the force of the wind. Or she had shuddered for some other reason, a tingle traveling down her spine again. Shepard stood expectantly, ready to turn toward the Mako as soon as Liara approached within a pace of her.

They made careful haste, Shepard uttering no words or orders as Liara followed, matching her pace until they'd strapped in.

It was nearly silent inside the Mako after the doors sealed shut. Shepard tapped at the controls, reinitiating life support and readying engines, then turned in her seat to nod at Garrus — acknowledgment, or a signal, that Liara wasn't in on. And it became apparent to her they'd excluded her over the comm channel while she was studying the ruins. Perhaps lest she panic.

The next gust of wind rocked the Mako and carried an ominous rumble.

"Shepard, what is happening?" 

Shepard's hands hovered over the steering before she set them down, grasping the wheel. "Thresher nest. We're going to get out of here, just gotta take it nice and easy. Maybe we won't disturb it."

The image of the mangled geth snapped back into her mind. She'd been so eager to push forward and collect information on the ruins — focusing on her own assignment and ignoring what lay outside it — that she hadn't stopped to consider that Shepard may have wanted a warning about the geth.

Shepard turned in her seat again to survey their surroundings, her eye contact with Liara accidental and fleeting as she peered out the window, then brought up the map again.

It was too late for her to worry about the time she could have bought them if she'd given them a heads up about what she'd seen. She was sure she'd get to hear of Shepard's disapproval, if only eventually. Now was not the time to concern herself with that.

It also wasn't the time to think about what Shepard may be thinking or feeling. Liara tried to quash the guilt that surfaced, tried to clear her head of the images in that news vid — a younger Shepard, still healing from her injuries and the unimaginable terror she faced at Akuze…

A wandering mind would be nothing but dangerous. She had to focus, tried to steady her breathing, though she found herself holding her breath in unpredictable bursts.

Shepard eased on the gas, the crunch and the vibration of the tires gripping the ground agonizing as she took a wide turn, aiming in the direction of their initial drop and away from the nearby canyon. Speed modest but steady, they began to crawl away from the destruction — and the only partially studied ruins.

Liara slowly let out another breath she'd been holding, the stream of air from her lips stuttering as they continued over rugged ground, her eyes trained on the landscape ahead.

No one dared to speak as the second stretched on, the pressure of the silence and Shepard's tense concentration heavy in the air.

Liara went to take a breath again.

And the ground ahead shattered.

The violent tremor hit with a cracking blast, carrying with it a sickening, otherworldly screech and a shower of earth and ice sent pelting off the Mako's shields. They accelerated. Liara jerked back against her seat, slamming her helmet against the side window with a dull thud, flailing, grasping for a handhold. Amidst Shepard's shouting and the clattering overhead from the mounted gun, she realized her eyes were squeezed shut. She opened them.

"Garrus, we're falling back from the nest! Hold your fire unless there's no choice!"

Dead ahead, the ground erupted in a spray of ice and the ear-piercing reverberation of a sickening, guttural shriek. Liara tugged and braced against her restraints as she was again thrown against the side of the Mako, her visor display blinking as her suit registered the force.

"We can't let it get too close!" Garrus protested.

"I'll let you know if it's too close!"

Liara barely understood their shouts over the sheer terror of the sight of the thresher maw, all tentacles and armored scales and plates, the spray of acid sizzling against their shields.

_"Fire!"_ Shepard screamed, almost indiscernible over the shower of rocks and sputtering acid. A harsh alarm blared warning of shield depletion.

"That's all we've got, ten seconds to cooldown. Shields nearly gone."

"Goddammit, hold on, guys."

The ground rumbled as the creature retreated into its nest, burrowing beneath and around them in haphazard, unpredictable undulations, until the terrain fell silent and deceptively still, if only for a moment.

An explosion of rock and ice blasted forth as the thresher maw nearly clipped the front left wheel. Shepard cut a hard turn to the right.

Liara winced, inertia slamming her against her restraints, head spinning, eyes catching brief glimpses of her surroundings but unable to focus fully. The onboard display shone bright in her vision, a winding streak of tightly packed lines nearly on top of the speck marking their current location on the map.

Her stomach dropped in a sickening lurch.

"Shepard, the cliff!"

_"Fuck!"_

Shepard slammed the brakes and they skid, not to a halt, but sideways over the edge of the ravine.

Gripping at her restraints, flung once again into the disorientation of freefall, Liara braced herself, clenching and tensing her every muscle against the tumbling and jostling and rattling as her helmet slammed into the wall, into her seat. Metal crunched against rock to a backdrop of alarms beeping and blaring, fading, drowned out and muffled as her pulse drummed violently in her head.

And before she fully registered what had happened, it was over.

The suspension creaked in its last spongy oscillation. 

Head spinning, the only sound remaining was the ringing in her ears and the hiss of her breath in her helmet. Her hands still clenched her safety harness, unfeeling, and she released them to shake out the painful stiffness. She took a moment to regain her bearings, unsure for a moment if they'd landed right-side up. By some miracle they had.

_"Fuck!"_ Shepard shrieked, slamming her fist so hard on the Mako's interior that her shields shimmered.

Liara started.

_"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"_ she shouted again, each time pounding her fist against the wall with renewed rage. She slumped, devolving into a mess of ragged, gasping breaths.

It was otherwise silent, no one, for the moment, acknowledging another, Shepard's continued panting the only remaining sign of her outburst. She tapped at the front display, navigating through the menus, bringing up a screen of diagrams and lists flashing with alerts in shocks of red.

Shepard unclamped and removed her helmet and tossed it aside, slumping back in her seat with a huff. "Fuck," she said, in a feeble half-voice.

Liara looked away then chanced meeting her gaze directly. 

The intensity with which Shepard stared back — face hardened and shining with sweat as the red lights flashed, but her eyes pleading and broken — held Liara frozen in place, unable to look away despite the pang of the connection. Her eyes came to rest on the scar through Shepard's eyebrow.

Shepard wiped away the sweat on her brow with the back of her hand, and with it, any last trace of readable emotion.

"Everyone alright?" she said between breaths, staring upward, leaning back against the headrest. 

"All good back here."

"Liara?"

She offered Shepard a small nod, still unable to speak, still searching for the connection she'd lost.

"I think that was almost your worst driving to date," Garrus said, his sarcasm strained. "_Almost_ being the operative word."

Shepard's expression hardened, and she looked away. "Yeah, real fucking funny, Garrus."

"Just trying to add a little levity."

Shepard scoffed and leaned forward. Tapped on the onboard interface again, summoning a detailed damage report. "Fucking hell."

"With all due respect, does the swearing help?"

"Yeah, you know what?" she snapped. "It fucking does. Now why don't you get off my dick and do something about this?" With the final word she slapped the screen and its flashing red warnings. She slumped in resignation with a long, huffing sigh. "I'll be right behind you," she said, calmly that time. "But sit tight for a minute."

Shepard breathed, staring at the overhead again for a few moments before reaching into a pocket and pulling out a small stack of solid discs, glancing sidelong at Liara with a small nod.

"Found these in one of the scavenger's pockets. Looks like they beat us to it."

Liara took the discs and examined each one, brow furrowed. "They're heavily damaged."

"Figures," Shepard said, bitterly. She sighed, sat up, then donned and fastened her helmet. "Let's head out, do some damage control. I'm going to radio Joker and see if he can transmit a wider scan of the area."

She didn't have any orders for Liara except not to panic. Legs wobbly and unsteady in the aftermath of the adrenaline rush, Liara set to wandering, catching her breath, bringing herself back into the moment — not looking too far ahead, seeing as they'd crashed into a rather unfortunate rut.

The sheer cliff walls rose skyward at near-right angles to the ground; precipice and ground alike were unusually smooth, as if worn down by the elements or polished by unnatural means. Liara looked upward. There would be no escape by scaling the walls, so they'd either have to venture forward or backward, following the path carved out for them — if that path led to an exit at all.

The eerie whistle of gusts of wind played overhead.

Every once in a while, the sound of gravel, ice, or debris cascaded with an airy echo from an unseen source, and yet when Liara turned toward the sound, she never saw the movement. Garrus's omni-tool chimed and beeped as he delivered omni-gel to the damaged wheel, and Shepard's booted footfalls tapped quietly against the solid ground as she wandered idly, studying the various informational displays above her wrist. 

Shepard's footsteps approached beside her, and she tapped Liara on the shoulder.

"Take a look at this." Shepard's voice buzzed in Liara's earpiece, all calm wonder, indicating the topographical map hovering above her left forearm.

Liara cocked her head, curious, but not quite understanding.

"If we continue on in the direction we're currently pointed, the crevasse narrows to a width we'd eventually have to hike on foot." She pointed to the area in question on the display, and Liara's eyes widened slightly. "But, see here, it opens back up after about fifty meters to a sort of dead-end chamber. So we won't be getting out that way."

There was an icon blinking on the map, within the cave, that the legend marked as an anomalous energy source, albeit faint.

"The good news is, if we turn around, continue on for about five kilometers, the terrain levels out somewhat. We should be able to drive out." She swiped the display away with a satisfied gesture, then titled her head in the direction of the anomaly. "I say we go investigate whatever that is first. How much longer, Garrus?"

"Ten minutes and I'll have it patched. Most of the other damage is superficial."

"Good work. Keep at it."

"Looks like we got lucky there in more ways than one."

Shepard didn't say anything for a moment. "Hm" was all she finally offered, a small acknowledgment, before turning back toward Liara. "Let's hop back in and grab a recharge."

With a nod Liara followed her. 

Back inside, atmospheric cycle complete, she took off her helmet, ran a hand through her disheveled hair.

"How're you doing?" she asked as Liara wiggled her helmet off over her crest.

Liara paused before reaching for a cable and plugging in. She tapped on her omni-tool, confirming the connection and checking the charge, before her eyes met Shepard's, if only briefly. She settled on focusing above her shoulder.

Either she was handling herself extraordinarily well, or she was certain to face the cumulative effect of the day's trials after the numbness faded. If she were lucky and remained focused, she could hold off on experiencing the shock and process it at a later, more convenient time. 

She nodded and pressed her lips into a tight smile, hoping it would suffice as an answer. Unloading now could risk unraveling her composure.

Two weeks of casual chats had solidified the concept in her mind that the person Shepard was when she tapped on the door of the med storage room was a different version of herself than she presented elsewhere. Even now, as she idly flattened her hair with her free hand, face set in blank and placid stoicism, it was as if she were saying something in her silence, eyes offering the depths of some inexplicable and indescribable nonverbal connection.

Liara had to look away.

It was all too obvious this brief moment of privacy wasn't simply a chance to recharge their hardsuit batteries — the indicator on her omni-tool showed hers was nearly full to capacity.

There was something energizing about her presence that pushed more immediate and important thoughts away. In a way, right now, it worked in her favor, served to ground her. But in her presence or her absence, the growing space she occupied in her mind was becoming concerning, the runaway unconscious prioritizing impervious to her attempts to redistribute her thoughts.

Shepard gave her a friendly nudge on the shoulder, snapping her out of her musing. "Talk to me, Liara. How're you holding up?"

The glimpse she caught of her face, lit mostly by the orange glow of their omni-tools, the outside light dim and cool, was only fleeting. Finding herself unable to sustain eye contact again, she turned to her suit readout. 

"It appears I am finished charging."

"That's not…" She shook her head. "Alrighty then, eager to head out and see what we've got?"

Repairs complete, they made their way — her driving careful and steady — following the tortuous path to its ultimate bottleneck, the cliff walls folding inward to form a progressively narrowing tunnel.

Unable to drive further, they proceeded on foot. The ambient light faded behind them as they progressed through the tunnel, though the darkness was never oppressive, an oddly luminous blue light source at the opposite end drawing closer. Liara ran her hand over the unusually smooth surface of the tunnel's variegated, icy walls.

Per their marching order, Shepard was the first to step into the final chamber, Liara and Garrus following close behind.

As Shepard shifted aside, permitting her a better view, Liara stopped in her tracks. 

In the center of the spacious cave sat a square pyramid, solid and looming, its sides textured with snaking veins of ice wrapping the surface in a delicate web, here and there punctuated by stalagmites rising like spears. She stood in awe, eyes drawn upward to a translucent ceiling, frozen ripples of cobalt and brilliant turquoise shimmering with the waxing and waning daylight above ground as the stormclouds continued their endless race across the sky. Pillars of light spilled from fissures in the crystalline ceiling, glowing as they caught the mist, joined in vertical companionship by towering columns of ice where stalactites met stalagmites.

While the scene was seemingly undisturbed, bearing no obvious signs of recent excavation, the natural and unnatural interacted in a delicate balance. Neither buried completely nor worn away by the elements, the pyramid sat on timeless display.

The trio circled the structure, speechless and silent save for the airy reverberation of their footfalls. As the light of the chamber shifted through a kaleidoscope of blue, the top of the pyramid subtly shimmered and flashed with occasional bursts of light, though the darkness of its material seemed nonreflective. Whether it was a trick of the light or the flashes were emissive in nature, Liara couldn't be sure.

"I'm assuming it's Prothean? I've never seen anything like it before."

"Neither have I," Liara said in awe, eyes trained on the peak. "Well, I mean, more generally, yes, I have. But the location, the state of preservation, the…" She trailed off, breathless, looking toward Shepard. "I'm going to take a closer look."

Shepard paused, concern flashing briefly in her eyes, before she nodded. "Be careful."

"I know what I'm doing."

Liara ran her hand over the surface near the pyramid's base, the icy veins smooth beneath her glove, then tipped off the ground, encased in the glow of her biotics, rising up and hovering parallel to the slope. At the peak, she lowered down, steadying herself with a foot perched against an icy column.

It appeared to be a compartment of sorts, and as she brushed a gloved hand over the opaque surface, a small pop sounded and a slat fell away, revealing the hidden contents. A solid rectangular case sat within, devoid of markings. She scanned it with her omni-tool to ensure it would be safe to handle.

"What'd you find?"

Assured that the object posed no hazard, she grabbed it. It was surprisingly heavy. "I'm not sure, but my best guess would be that it's casing for long-term data storage."

She wrapped herself in her biotics again and drifted downward, exhilarated, skimming her hand across the pyramid's icy surface on her descent until her feet contacted solid ground.

Shepard reached for the box, and she handed it over.

Garrus leaned nearby against one of the natural columns. "Did our Prothean expert work her magic?"

"Appears she did," Shepard replied. Liara could tell she was beaming even though her helmet obscured all but her eyes. "Appears she did."

⁂

Upon their return to the _Normandy_, Liara spent the better part of the remaining afternoon hovering over the newfound artifact in the cargo bay. Thanks to a vast array of specialized tools, advanced scanning methods made possible with omni-tool mods, and Tali's help with the endeavor, they managed to disassemble the case to reveal a large, impeccably preserved data disc.

Despite the ups and downs, she took great satisfaction in the conclusion of this part of her day's work and returned to her room to finalize her notes over a pot of tea.

A knock at her door after dinner came as no surprise.

"Come in," she announced, not looking away from her terminal.

"It's just me," Shepard said, entering, then closing the door behind her.

Liara gestured for her to sit, and she did. 

"I didn't think we were running out of things to talk about," Liara began, turning her attention to Shepard and away from her work, "but if we were, I think today would provide ample opportunity to make up for any potential lull."

Shepard chuckled, somewhat abashed, and shook her head. "I know we've taught you to prepare for pretty much anything out there, but that must've been a hell of an initiation. I didn't mean to throw you into the fire like that." 

She sounded genuinely apologetic, though she need not be. Liara knew full well what she was signing up for, unexpected danger in the form of a thresher maw or not. But it was a distinct possibility her apology referred to the immediate aftermath, for throwing them all into the fire (in the form of an icy ravine) due to her misstep.

Liara glanced back at her work, realizing she was staring again. "I accept your apology," she said, unintentionally flatly, with a few keystrokes at her terminal to cover up the fact she was lost in thought for other reasons.

"I honestly can't tell if you're mad at me right now."

"I'm not!" Liara allowed her expression to brighten, her brow to soften. She chuckled to herself as she shook out the tension in her shoulders and hands, then picked up her small glass teacup and gestured with it. "I've been so lost in thought and in work, it can be difficult to transition out of it."

"I can always come back later if now's not a good time."

"It's not a bad time at all," she said, sincere. "I was only distracted, and I am sorry. You have my full attention now. You wanted to talk about the mission?"

"Yeah, and I wanted to check in with you." Shepard gave a half-shrug and a small, lopsided smile. "There was a part of me that was certain you were going to freak, but no, yeah, I feel bad for underestimating you. If even just a little."

Much to Liara's astonishment, the backlog of panic and adrenaline she'd been able to keep at bay while planetside never did hit her once they'd returned to the safety of the ship. Perhaps second times skirting near-certain death just didn't have the potency of first ones… or maybe the part of her that was concerned about keeping her place here and proving her worth was enough to overpower the part of her heading toward a breakdown. For the time being.

And the irony of Shepard, of all people, being the only one to "freak" by any definition was not lost on her.

Unable to articulate any coherent thought and unsure if she should interpret her comment as a compliment or an insult, she shook her head and shrugged, then finished her tea.

Shepard spoke into her silence. "I guess I tend to forget you have a hell of a lot more life experience than I do, given as long as you've been around. I bet you've seen some shit in your hundred-some years."

Liara scoffed humorously, rising from her seat to grab an extra teacup. "I do not believe I have."

And there was no deception there. Any previous run-ins with aggressive wildlife or sapient troublemakers had been on a much smaller, much less threatening scale, most of them quickly realizing she was powerful enough to not be worth further provocation.

The geth and the krogan on Therum had been an unanticipated deviation from that trend. 

Danger that she realized was likely bound to repeat. But if today was any indication, she was beginning to feel invincible.

"Well, I have to commend your levelheadedness. I wasn't anticipating things to go pear-shaped quite like that. At least for today, it wasn't in your job description." Shepard leaned with her chin on her hand, elbow on the table. "You avoided the question before, but I'm going to ask again: How are you holding up?"

She'd been so caught up in her work that the question brought her back to the uncomfortable reality of having to address her own complicated inner predicament. Every time she attempted to venture within certain areas of her own mind, she was abruptly expelled. Sure, she was skilled at compartmentalizing — as over one hundred years of living mostly within her own mind would necessitate — but being so completely locked out from analyzing an ever-expanding aspect of herself was new and distressing.

Saying "I'm fine" likely wouldn't suffice.

She grasped at words to string together.

"It wasn't what I was expecting, but in a way, I believe that worked in my favor," Liara explained, pouring the tea into her own cup, then filling the other. "Such a rapid succession of unlikely and dangerous scenarios gave me no time to, as you said, 'freak.' Perhaps if you had told me what to expect, I would have been more on edge, would have reacted differently."

She was certain she was blabbering nonsense, but any truth she could attempt to coax out of herself would likely sound equally nonsensical. "I'm fine," she clarified, emphasis deliberate, as she sat down again with both cups in hand. Before Shepard could interject or question her further, Liara held out a teacup. "Here. Try this."

She looked at Liara over the tiny cup with an odd combination of piercing glare and playful smirk. 

"It's my favorite tea, a local blend from Armali." Liara picked up her own cup, then looked back at Shepard, who was still eyeing her with a raised eyebrow. "Try it!"

She did, her expression sliding precipitously from skeptical to downright disgusted.

Liara stifled a laugh. "Well?"

"It smells like flowers but tastes like a concussion." She took another sip, face contorting into a comically dramatic grimace. "Holy hot-buttered Jesus, how do you drink this stuff?"

Liara laughed openly that time, not attempting to hide her joy in besting and successfully distracting her with something as benign as tea. "Do you really find it that awful?"

"It's vile!" she said, then finished what was in her cup. "Ugh. Ugh!"

"Most describe its flavor as quite mild. Most asari, that is. Maybe you possess a taste receptor we do not."

"No kidding."

Shepard looked like she was about to backtrack, to pick up the thought Liara had deliberately interrupted with her tea ruse, but instead, she held out her cup.

"You want _more_?" Liara shook her head, puzzled, but refilled her cup as requested.

"So," Shepard began again, examining either the color of the tea or the design on the glass cup. She wrinkled her nose before looking back at Liara. "I read over the notes you wrote up today. I'd be interested to hear more about it. Things to look out for on further expeditions. Care to send me a copy for my mission report?"

The realization hit her. She threw up her hands and leapt from her seat. "Oh goddess, what was I thinking?"

"What?" said Shepard, visibly confused.

Liara hovered over the basket filled with her tea supplies, thumbing frantically through all the packets. "It's a direct import from Thessia!"

"I don't think that's wh—"

She swiped the correct package from the basket. Mumbled, reading the label aloud, as she skimmed over the text for the line that listed the approximate eezo content per serving. Her eyes widened in alarm. "It's eezo-contaminated! Stop drinking that!"

Much to her dismay, Shepard had already taken another mouthful of tea. Liara winced when she swallowed.

"Uh, alright then," she said, seemingly unperturbed.

Liara paced in an indecisive, exasperated circle, drumming her fingertips on her forehead as she tried to recall the location of the medication she sought. She nodded to herself, pulled a bottle from a drawer, then sat back down in her chair across from Shepard, eyeing her as she scanned the label to ensure she didn't try to sneak another taste.

"Take _one_," she said with authority, both reading the pertinent instruction aloud and issuing her command.

"Oh, so you're that kind of doctor now, too?"

Liara grunted in frustration, unscrewing the cap and shaking out a tablet. "It's a benign supplement, it can be purchased nearly anywhere. It will keep the eezo from binding. Here."

"Liara, I know what eezo inhibitors are." Shepard begrudgingly accepted the tablet Liara all but shoved in her face. "And I was joking. Why are you —"

"Take it!" she shouted. "No, with _water_…"

"Too late," Shepard said, setting her empty teacup down on the table.

Liara let out a sound somewhere between a groan and a whimper, caught halfway in a motion to grab her water bottle from the desk. She slumped back into her chair.

Shepard looked perplexed, even mildly amused, as she leaned with her elbow against the table and fiddled with her empty cup. 

"So a bunch of dead bodies, a run-in with a thresher maw, and a treacherous tumble down an icy ravine isn't enough to rattle you, but the thought of feeding me a trace amount of eezo is?"

Liara didn't have anything remotely logical to counter with, so she scoffed. "There's a lot you don't know about me!"

"And there's a lot you don't know about me."

Liara crossed her legs and folded her arms across her chest as if it could help to contain her rising embarrassment.

"So," Shepard began again, raising her tea glass and laughing when Liara shook her head vigorously. "Rewinding to where we were before you came to the realization that you might be actively poisoning me, I was just popping in to check on the well-being of my Prothean expert and extract some of her knowledge."

Liara sucked on her lips to distract herself and hide _whatever she was feeling_ and turned toward her terminal. She brought up her notes. "Where would you like to start?"


	9. Chapter 9

Liara wasn't sleeping.

Nearly 24 hours had passed since the early-morning incident, and not only did Liara lie awake in the (fortunately, now dark and quiet) med bay staring at the space before her with eyes unseeing, but she hadn't slept, and had made no attempt to sleep, since her rude awakening.

Despite her certainty that being sealed away from the situation outside the confines of the med bay was the source of much agitation, isolated from the nonmedical crew and ignorant of any detail or development she hadn't gleaned just before her flight, having been abruptly and unwillingly faced with the alternative was worse.

Somewhere in crew quarters Liara imagined Dr. Chakwas slept off the busy day of treating two of her patients' self-inflicted injuries. In the next bed over, Joker snored, sleeping soundly — no doubt thanks to a medication cocktail — after an eventful day of surgeries. And beyond the foot of Liara's bed, Dr. V'Leera sat at her desk, the glow of her terminal visible in a gap in the curtain and her occasional tapping on her datapad the only sign of her presence.

The physical proximity of friend and not-friend did nothing to mitigate her loneliness and further served to amplify her guilt.

If she closed her eyes, breathed deeply in meditation, settled the churning of her thoughts, it was possible she could fall asleep. And in sleep she could feel less alone, if only for those unconscious moments. The idea was as tempting as it was prudent. While her therapies had been delegated to an assistant as Dr. Chakwas completed much more delicate tasks in _Normandy_'s small operating theater, the doctor wasted no time after the completion of Joker's surgeries checking in on Liara, suggesting she was well on her way to discharge, even light duty, as long as her progress continued. If she appeared excessively fatigued or otherwise unwell during her morning checkup, she risked extending her stay.

She was in control, she assured herself. She could sleep if she wanted to, and regardless of her decision, she would walk out of the med bay in only a few hours' time — granted with restrictions and instructions to follow. But she would be free from this place and free from her data lockout and free to do as she pleased.

They were no longer monitoring her vitals continuously, so without the real-time feeds, Dr. V'Leera would have no reason to suspect (or data to confirm) she still lay awake at this hour, stewing in her turmoil. Even in her apparent stillness, her breathing intentionally steady and movements sporadic to feign restfulness to the ever-vigilant V'Leera, a sea of conflicting feelings stirred within her, each one surfacing and then retreating into the depths of her thoughts almost as soon as it had appeared — rage, regret, despondence, agitation, weariness — but the only thing she could do was _pretend_ to sleep.

Several more hours had yet to pass until Dr. Chakwas would begin her shift, relieving Dr. V'Leera. Sleeping — _truly_ sleeping — would pass the time. But in sleep, her mind would run rampant, offering a temporary illusion of companionship, nightmares, or both — in surreal and unpredictable combinations. Would her unconscious fitfulness be obvious to the doctor? Would her breathing become labored? Would she whimper in her sleep? She'd wake in the morning only to have to sit through another uncomfortable iteration of V'Leera's icy lecture. And there were too many scenarios to consider regarding what she'd find upon the med bay door closing behind her, and to be best prepared, she wanted to leave nothing unexplored. So, she allowed her thoughts to run unhindered.

Dr. V'Leera shifted in her chair, and Liara tensed before promptly remembering to keep her breathing gentle and steady, but not so quiet as to make it obvious she was awake and avoiding being noticed.

Beside her, where her eyes lingered unfocused, the last of her machines whirred and hummed as they pumped her medications and fluids. She was eager to be rid of them, to return to her ruined quarters — restoring order, surrounding herself with the painfully familiar: streams of data to sort and instructions to give and resources to allocate. Letting her mind run estimates on the numbers, what remained of her network, best- and worst-case scenarios. Her fingertips twitched, itching to launch back into her work, to see, without supposition or guesswork, what she would be dealing with.

She imagined herself wandering back to her room, the hatch opening and the harsh scent of destruction hitting her and filling her lungs. Stepping over the threshold, she walked back in time, a stream of alerts flashing before her eyes and a sinking apprehension flooding her chest. A realization that they weren't spaceworthy, that the crew, her family, a team that could handle anything, was beginning to crack under pressure.

On the other side of Liara's privacy curtain, Dr. V'Leera's omni-tool chimed. The doctor rose from her seat and exited the med bay, not hastily by any means. May only be taking a break or stepping out for a quick meal.

Liara stared at the medical equipment before her again. Backtracked, constructing a new scenario in her mind. She would return to her quarters, find them marred by the final moments fleeing Earth as before. Datapads and notes and ceramic mugs and old food wrappers and clothes and overturned furniture all scattered and heaped in piles, the slovenly result of her duties taking precedent over cleanliness, the aftermath of the turbulence leaving everything in violent disarray.

Work of a more menial sort would have to be a priority, and the mindless task of picking up, sorting, and cleaning seemed oddly attractive, even if an emotionally risky endeavor. 

It would be an excavation of the ruins of their life together.

Her stay in the med bay had thus far offered a tenuous stability, albeit a situational one, the environment not only sanitized of pathogens but also of physical reminders of what she'd lost — besides the one she wore on her left ring finger, painfully aware of it with every movement of her hand but unable to bring herself gaze upon directly. Outside, she'd have less control over her surroundings, and there was no predicting what seemingly innocuous detail would send her spiraling. 

But she'd been through it before. Would have to desensitize again.

She extended her left hand out before her, but her eyes closed on reflex. 

"Hey Liara, you awake over there?"

She withdrew her hand, tucking it under her cheek, not breathing for a moment. Had Joker's voice held any bitterness, she would have continued to feign sleep, but it did not. He'd spoken gently, quietly enough that it was more of a question than an attempt to verify that she was awake if he'd already suspected it.

"Yes."

"That's not an offensive question, is it…?" he mumbled. "Do asari sleep? I mean, I've seen you around the ship at oh dark thirty getting tea and whatnot and I guess I haven't —"

"Is there something you wanted to ask me?"

"I—I guess not."

"Go back to sleep."

Liara's annoyance had almost melted away, grateful for the silence, by the time Joker responded, his words slightly slurred. "Actually, yeah. There is something I wanted to say."

She sighed. Waited. Rolled her eyes. "I am listening."

"Hold on, hold on… I'm thinking…"

"I'm not going anywhere."

Again, she waited.

"I mean, if you do sleep, and your crests don't flop around, it must get uncomfortable if —"

"I cannot believe this." She made an ordeal of noisily rolling over in bed so her back was to him and pulled the blanket up to her chin, hoping the audible frustration would be obvious, the action not visible. "You're high. Go back to sleep."

Joker protested in a series of incoherent mumbles. She frowned, trying to block him out, until for a fleeting instant he spoke clearly. "I'm sorry for what I said. It was uncalled for."

"What was that?"

He replied, or attempted to reply, his words again muted and unintelligible.

"I… accept your apology." She paused for a moment. Said, quietly, "I am assuming you are referring to yesterday, and not misconceptions about my people's physiology."

She listened, staring into the dark, waiting for a response. But the only sound that came was the renewal of Joker's snoring.

The hatch sprung open and Dr. V'Leera returned to her quiet work not a few minutes later.

And again, Liara found herself alone. Against her apprehension, she uncurled her arm, holding her left hand out in front of her, letting her eyes wander, then settle and focus, on the band encircling her ring finger, the flecks of eezo interspersed throughout the crosshatched pattern [9] of the distinctive metal gleaming like tiny stars of brilliant blue in the darkness.

Their matching wedding bands had been carved concentrically from a slice of the Kalayis meteorite, the jewelry of Earth tradition crafted from a wonder of Thessian history. The remaining central disc of the shimmering metal adorned Liara's delicate bracelet, a more familiar bonding tradition — one in turn Shepard had honored in the form of a tattoo featuring a similar design. Subtle geometric symmetry embellished and framed organic lines snaking like vines around her right wrist, flowing into waves sweeping up the underside of her forearm.

Liara withdrew her hand and wrapped her arms tightly around her torso, the pain of the memories constricting her ribcage even tighter: the hasty preparations, the paperwork at the Citadel to legalize their bonding a drudgery undertaken with joy, her friends beaming around her upon hearing the news, their party piling into a tiny understated restaurant for a toast — and a promise — that when there was time, when the future looked less bleak, they would hold an official ceremony.

Those memories stirred emotions churning and storming within her, but she clenched her jaw, bit down on her lip, and hardened against that which she couldn't let spill. Not here, not now.

Every promise, every piece of Shepard that remained in her world seemed to slip away. She clung to every last metaphorical connection, her well of strength and hope depleting as she tried not to toss and turn and alert V'Leera to her distress. And of all the things that could have surfaced as the focus of her despair, it was the fact that Shepard had lost her ring somewhere on the _Normandy_, severing another symbolic thread between them.

She squeezed her arms tighter as she hugged herself, closing her eyes, bracing herself in a storm she'd have to weather alone.

And when a curtain of exhaustion descended upon her mind, unexpected but welcome, she did not fight it, and let herself slip into the release of sleep.

⁂

Liara blinked rapidly and took a deep breath in, trying to slow her panting.

Humid air filled her lungs, unrefreshing and thick, heavy with the sour pungency of rotting fruit and the overpowering sweetness of syrupy flowers. It weighed her down as if squeezing her, sat sticky on her skin.

She stood in a circular clearing, vine-tangled trees rising around her like eerie, twisted, elongated shadows against the waning light of dusk. As she doubled over to catch her breath, supporting her weight with her hands on her knees, the sounds of nature came to life around her, the clicking and cooing and rustling of insects and animals hidden but omnipresent.

Despair tore through her chest and constricted her ribcage as she heaved another breath.

She righted herself and continued on her way, picking a direction at random, blasting a tangle of vines out of her path in a flash of biotics and a shower of broad, waxy leaves. Instinct and muscle memory took over weaving through trees and ferns and brush, her gait unsteady and her breathing labored, a white-hot pain lancing through her skull every time she slashed the vegetation or thrust her mind into the space around her, searching and hoping but only finding a desolate, unforgiving solitude.

Foot catching on a protruding root, she lost her balance, managed to stay upright but just barely, carrying forward and bursting through a curtain of leaves.

She stumbled into another circular clearing, identical to the one before in every way but one.

Her breath caught in her lungs. She dropped to the ground. 

A dull pain shocked her body as her knees contacted the damp earth, but she ignored it, hands frantically grasping at the shoulders of Shepard's bulky armor.

Liara shook her, then froze. Fell utterly still.

Shepard's expression was locked in the pain and finality of death, lips parted, muscles slack, her eyes wide without relief, without release. Not serene, only lost, lifeless, empty.

Liara suppressed a sob as she shut her eyes, pushed the image away. Though the humid air stagnated around her — uncomfortable, stifling — a chill emerged deep in her core, an icy seed expanding until it consumed her. The lurch of freefall tugged at the back of her mind. She shook it off.

_"It's going to be okay."_

Liara flinched at the sound of Shepard's voice, a calm, airy echo in her mind detached from the body in front of her. Swiveling, eyes darting and wild, she surveyed the area around her but found nothing but the bright green insects, pinpoints of light dancing in the empty clearing. She slumped over her once again.

"No…" Not attempting to communicate through the meld, Liara spoke aloud, her voice low, defeated. Tears streaked down her cheeks and dripped from her chin, dotting the charred and bloodied plates of Shepard's ruined armor. "You're not here."

She brushed the grimy, matted strands of hair away from her forehead. Her eyes were open, glassy and gray, her face gaunt and complexion pallid and bruised, mouth and nose caked with clotted blood, her mind… nowhere.

_"I'm here with you."_

Liara whimpered, her gasps for air wheezing and rapid as she turned to look over her left shoulder, then her right, spinning around as if in search for the voice's origin, only finding the same repetitive shroud of trees and the dark blue of night. The flecks of luminous green continued to pulse and flicker, drifting around them like living embers.

"But it's not _real_."

_"I'm as real as you need me to be. I'm always with you, you know that?"_

"Please stop, just tell me this isn't real. I can't keep doing this. You're hurting me."

Liara again gripped her shoulders and shook, only slightly. Shepard's head lolled to the side.

A pair of bright omni-tool flashlights shone in her peripheral vision, drawing closer, casting long shadows.

"We found her, Doctor, but it doesn't look good."

They materialized around her — not only Tali and Garrus but more faces than she could readily count, all familiar. Friends, teammates, faces she trusted. 

The insects scattered.

Hands tugged at her shoulders and pulled her upright, dragged her backward. She didn't fight them.

"She lives on in you in a very real way," Dr. Chakwas said, her grip on Liara's left shoulder secure.

Dr. V'Leera stepped forward, parting from the group as they retreated, and knelt over Shepard's lifeless form. She ran the back of her hand over the tangled strands of Shepard's hair, eyes snapping to black.

"How can I tell if it's real if I can't hold her, can't feel her and sense her?"

They retreated from Shepard and V'Leera, dragging Liara's limp frame, her feet skidding over leaves and branches and roots and then nothing. The forest dissolved, the darkness that remained total and impenetrable save for the two figures ahead of her, the only things visible in the sprawling void.

"What do you want from me?" she cried, trying to scramble free, but her body was weak. "You can't take her!"

V'Leera didn't break her focus, didn't acknowledge her.

"Tell me it isn't real. Just tell me it isn't —"

⁂

"— real."

Liara opened her eyes to the harshness of the clinical light and Dr. V'Leera's condescending glare, the reek of antiseptic on recycled air stinging her sinuses as she clutched at a fistful of sheets.

Dr. V'Leera tapped her stylus on her datapad, scribbling notes. "Good morning," she said, the local Armali greeting holding none of the familiarity and warmth it should have, the words that normally tasted of the salty equatorial breezes of home uncharacteristically chilled. "Dr. Chakwas will be in soon to finalize your discharge." She tucked her datapad under her arm and clapped her palms together. "Up, up," she instructed.

Liara rubbed her eyes and sat upright, eyes scanning the room around her, its harsh, inorganic lines for the moment a reassuring contrast to the disorientation of her nightmare. And before that reassurance could wear off, the unpleasant smells and drab curtains and strange machines and constant surveillance would be behind her — she'd be free. V'Leera's assistant soon brought in breakfast of bland porridge and tea, and though Liara's appetite was minimal, she ate readily. The meal passed in an indistinct haze, as did her change into her regular clothes, then finally the shift change.

"If you have a change of heart regarding further treatment," Dr. V'Leera said before making her exit, "I believe you know where to find me."

Dr. V'Leera's words repeated in Liara's mind, her frigid intonation a retreating chill in her memory, melting with her no longer in sight. She set her spoon down, looked up, and Dr. Chakwas was giving her instructions for discharge. Liara nodded in agreement and understanding, Dr. Chakwas's words gentle and familiar, if a bit droning. She blinked several times. Her vision blurred.

"You'll also need to return weekly for blood panels and brain scans to track your progress, and we will adjust your medication accordingly."

Liara nodded but did not speak, sitting at the edge of the bed, hands in her lap, scratching at her knuckles, chapped from the dryness of the air. Looking down at her hands and squinting, she noted how the microscales flaked onto the fabric of her leggings.

"Speaking of which," Dr. Chakwas continued, "I'll need a sample before you leave. Sit tight for a moment, but you'll be free to leave once we're done."

Dr. Chakwas promised detailed written instructions sent to her; Liara checked her omni-tool and skimmed the message. A medication schedule, restrictions on the use of her biotics, symptoms to be expected in her recovery and ones to report if she were to experience them.

She waved the interface away and looked up as Dr. Chakwas, continuing their conversation, sorted the vials of her blood away in the biological samples cabinet. She shut the door and it locked with a click.

"— but don't overdo it," she said sternly, approaching the beside once again, the beginning of her statement lost. "I would prefer for you to rest in your quarters today, but I know you, and I know as soon as you hear the official debriefing concerning our… arrival has yet to occur, you would most likely disregard my advice anyway, so I might as well be the one tell you. They're gathering everyone in the cargo bay at 0900 hours."

Liara paused, unsure of what to say, cautiously reading the doctor's expression. "I assume this means I am free to go now?"

"And you would be correct." Dr. Chakwas helped her upright. "I believe there are some friendly faces waiting for you just outside."

The med bay hatch closed behind her and sealed. For the first time in a week, she was on the correct side of it. Tali and Garrus, barely containing their joy in their own ways, greeted her with a hug and a pat on the shoulder, respectively.

They guided Liara — dizzy, slightly unsteady — across the crew deck, the area now a mess of activity and disarray with coils of electrical cabling strewn about the perimeter, crates of tools scattered atop assorted sturdy boxes serving both as storage as well as makeshift tables and seating. Even the main dining table served a dual purpose, half designated for meals, half as a shared workstation. Nishizaki — uniform crisp and hair slicked back in a tight bun, as always — sat hunched over the table, soldering. Lewis, Park, and Jameson sat at the opposite end finishing their breakfast — noticing the movement near the med bay, they looked up at Liara and smiled mildly as she passed. Wall and floor panels removed and set aside here and there left corresponding gaps where crew crouched down or assumed otherwise uncomfortable positions making repairs, some obscured nearly halfway, legs protruding from exposed crawlspaces lit by the glow of omni-tools.

It was a steady buzz of activity of a different sort, the energizing sign of a crew unwavering in their dedication and determination.

In the galley, Klinzmann spooned coffee grounds into the machine, and Liara averted her eyes as she walked by, thankful she'd be in her quarters before the aroma could permeate the area. They approached her room, Tali and Garrus stepping aside so Liara could palm the holo-lock.

The hatch opened. As Liara's jaw slackened, mouth agape, and Tali spoke up.

"I really hope you don't mind — I mean, I know it's too late if it's not, but — we did a bit of cleaning up. Fixed what was broken… it was the least we could do since I'd already overrode the lock on your door." And she whispered, "It wasn't easy."

Her eyes scanned a pristine room, lit both by artificial light, cool and bright, and the warm natural light spilling in from outdoors. Every square centimeter of floor was visible and newly clean, free of clothes and of the datapads and papers that had fallen, strewn about in their last moments at Earth. The harsh smell of burnt out electronics was now absent, any trace of the damage that had been done thoroughly scrubbed and repaired.

Any reminder of their life together erased, the lived-in (albeit slovenly) familiarity replaced by an almost clinical cleanliness.

"We should go sit down," said Tali, and they all stepped into the room. 

Liara wandered slowly forward, taking in her surroundings as if seeing them for the first time, running her hand over the servers that hummed softly, looking upon desks now organized and spacious, making her way to the back of the room. She climbed onto the bed — blankets tucked in neatly and pillows propped symmetrically against the headboard for the first time in recent memory — and sat in the center. She grabbed a pillow and held it in front of her, hugging it for support as she slouched forward.

Tali and Garrus pulled up chairs near the bed and sat with her.

"Thank you… for what you've done," Liara announced, solemnly, to her small audience. "This is an unnecessarily generous surprise, and I'm at a loss for words."

"You know we would all do everything we could to help," Tali said gently.

"I know. I…"

"Even if you value her love and friendship more than anyone else's." Her tone fell sorrowful.

There was a special sort of emptiness that crept up to tug at Liara's heart, hearing the resignation in her voice, knowing she was trying to coerce neither apology nor additional thanks from her, simply stating what she believed to be an unfortunate fact. They had undertaken this effort to help her, still processing the turn of events, perhaps even unsure if Liara would survive her injuries, and despite them being nothing but a target for her outburst in what could have been her final moments, they seemed to harbor no apparent rancor.

Liara could argue that it wasn't true, but her actions had suggested otherwise. She kept her mouth shut.

Tali continued, "You don't have to explain yourself, Liara, or find the words to apologize. We know you well enough to know you're probably still trying to rationalize it yourself."

Because a false rationalization, a lie that made sense, was more comfortable than the chaos of unhinged emotion. Even after all these years, she still tried to convince herself she was the same person who'd been trapped in that bubble on Therum, every decision calculated with meticulous precision, every feeling held coolly in check.

Liara stayed silent, the fact too painful to dwell on: that she was here because, nearly four years ago, she followed her heart rather than her head. And had, back then, spent nearly three months convincing herself that wasn't the case.

And that now, the person she'd become was molded from more than just her _own_ experiences.

Garrus was pensive. "It's behind us now, the damage minimal. But spirits, were we worried about you."

"It's good to have you back, it really, really is."

"I am glad to be back," Liara said, her voice a low monotone, hugging her pillow with eyes downturned.

They were all silent for some time, Liara studying her two friends as they looked back at her. While there was an undeniable tension in the air, her intuition told her it may not be for the reasons she suspected, and that if they had nothing but bad news to report, Tali especially would not have been able to fully hide the signs of it in her demeanor. She seemed nervous, holding back, but with a slight eagerness in the way she held herself, her shoulders tense as she sat in her chair but not slumped in despondence. Garrus was more or less unreadable, but his mandibles flicked as she made eye contact.

Liara let out a long, deep sigh, hoping her appraisal was correct. "You seem to be in relatively high spirits considering the circumstances, though whether that's a defense mechanism or a genuine indication that things are not as dire as anticipated, I do not know. So tell me, in your opinion, is there hope for us?"

"Asking the big questions, right away," Garrus said wryly.

Tali kneaded her hands in her lap. "There's something in the works, I will give you that much. It's probably no use to go into too much detail now. You'll hear soon enough."

"But you believe the plan to be robust?" Liara pressed.

"It's twofold, really. Together I think it shows promise." She sighed. "Liara, I know you're eager to jump right back into things but —"

"I am fine, I really am —"

"You don't…" Garrus interrupted that time, a hesitant mumble.

"— and I do not know what Dr. Chakwas told you to indicate otherwise. And we're simply talking, no risk of undue stress or physical overexertion. I can handle the truth, I promise." Liara closed her eyes for a moment, taking a few deep breaths in an attempt to quell her nausea. When she opened them, Tali and Garrus were studying her, looking to each other, their nonverbal communication apparent but its meaning obscure.

"Where are we?" Liara's voice was timid, hoarse. "Do we know?"

Tali was silent, deliberating, but after another nonverbal cue from Garrus, she finally spoke. "We do. We were fortunately able to reconstruct and analyze the flight vector. The destruction, the patterns of data corruption… we don't understand it yet, but…" She shook her head, began anew. "We're 37 light-years from Earth but only three from the nearest planetary system, Beta Plialdon, where there's current record of a settlement —"

"It's a remote science outpost," Garrus clarified.

"— which in turn is about three light-years from the nearest relay in the Ostralt system, where there's a larger human colony on Alterra-5. But Delta Plialdon, our planetary system, it's never been surveyed. Only observed at a distance."

"So, we are safe?"

"For now, we're safe."

No doubt due to the remoteness, as was likely her logic.

"But we have not established communications," Liara ventured, and the way Tali bowed and shook her head confirmed her suspicion. She looked to Garrus, her urgency growing. "Joker, in the med bay… he said there was no time. No time for _what?"_

Garrus let out a weary grumble, like a sigh. "Scanning the sky in bits and pieces, he allegedly picked up an unidentifiable object traveling at around 43 kilometers per second…"

Liara raised her eyebrows.

"Nothing to get your hopes up over," he continued. "Joker was barking out orders, sending everyone scrambling to boost the efficacy of our sensors and tightbeam comms before the 'ship' was out of range or jumped into FTL… and it was a false alarm."

"A comet," Tali supplied.

Liara sat up, slightly. "How did that sort of mistake…?"

"He was grasping for anything," Garrus explained, "overworked, sleep deprived, underfed, irritable. You get so used to an AI helping out that you forget that a VI is far less forthcoming with essential information. Unprompted, it won't volunteer. And we only had one VI backup core online at the time. We were almost working with nothing in terms of computing power."

"But he was prepared to broadcast a message without knowing anything further about the potential recipient? It could have been a Reaper."

"The confusion was only fleeting," said Tali. "They determined fairly quickly it was far too large an object to be a ship, even a Reaper, but his initial reaction did rattle the crew a bit, I think. Poor Sam took the brunt of his frustration." She sighed. "It's probably for the best that he got dragged off to medical after his outburst without being made aware of his mistake. If being reminded of an upcoming treatment was enough to evoke a response like that…"

"It was his tipping point after everything, after EDI…" Garrus said solemnly.

"Goddess… what happened?"

Garrus and Tali exchanged a mutual glance, though Garrus was the one to speak. "That's a question we can't answer yet."

"And not because we won't tell you. We don't actually know."

"Again, you'll hear more at the debriefing."

Garrus spoke into the brief silence that descended. "If there's a lesson to be learned here… desperation and grief is a nasty combination that dampens the spirit and clouds the mind."

Liara tensed, pushing the sense of accusation and the rest of her thoughts aside. She let her eyes wander to her equipment behind where her two friends sat, her gaze pointed enough that Tali turned around to follow her line of sight. When she swiveled back, she said, apologetically, "We haven't been able to establish connections with any local buoys, but that being said, I don't think there were any in place to begin with. Again, this system has never been surveyed as far as we know."

Liara sank, the nausea returning, and she pressed her fingertips to her temples. "And we're three light-years away from the nearest settlement, and six from the nearest relay," she said.

Garrus corrected, "Less than six from the relay, if we were to go straight there, but…"

"In a way it's… fortunate," Tali offered. Hesitant, but hopeful. "If we are to assume the worst… we're hidden at least, for now, as long as we don't broadcast our location. But that goes both ways. The QEC is… still down, so no contact with Alliance HQ. Obviously, any conventional signal would take too long to reach its recipient — at best, three years to reach the scientists on Plialdon-53, for example — and doubly too long for us to get a response. But we have a plan in the works to bypass that."

"We certainly have our work cut out for us," Garrus added unhelpfully.

Liara didn't care to remark on the obvious: that it wouldn't matter how long it took the signal to reach the scientists if they had fled or hadn't survived, though the remoteness was to their advantage, the nearest relay in the next solar system over. The colonists on Alterra-5 may not have fared as well.

"Communications problems aside, we're estimating it'll be months of repairs until we're spaceworthy," said Tali.

"Do you know what project I've been assigned to? Since…" Liara indicated her vast array of hardware, of no use to her under the circumstances.

"Well," Tali began, apologetically, "the orbital dynamics team may need to use some of your processing power to model courses and propulsion options for our drones." Liara sank, and Tali continued, "I know we haven't gone into detail — everyone will receive the full technical report soon enough — but there really is no immediate means of outside contact, no data flow or communication…"

Garrus spoke tentatively. "Again, we're working on it, but —"

"So there is nothing for me to do here," Liara burst out, hotly. "My agents may very well begin to believe that the Shadow Broker is dead. Those that remain may defect, decide their loyalties lie elsewhere, potentially deciding to serve a cause opposite my own —"

"Liara, we need to be realistic here." Tali rose from her seat, gesturing sternly, and Liara went back to rubbing her forehead. "There's nothing you can do _about that_ right now, but there is plenty for you to do _here_. In our isolation we need to prioritize differently, and we need to scale down. I know it's instinctual for you not to, and an uncomfortable change of pace, but right now, getting back to your network is not an option."

She sat back down on the edge of Liara's bed. Said, gently, "We're trying to survive, trying to escape this place, because some of us cannot survive here once we deplete our stored food rations… it's still possible that out there, they're still fighting a war and losing. I know coping with the uncertainty is hard, but…"

The room fell silent in the darkness of their collective mood, Liara slouching over her pillow, brow wrinkled in a frown; Tali sitting on the bed, awkwardly leaning her weight into one arm; Garrus pulling his mandibles close to his face in a tense expression.

Tali turned toward the window, the light from outside reflecting off her visor. "I have infinite trust in this team. We'll get through this, as a family."

Liara turned to her right, following Tali's gaze.

Though it was still morning by shipboard time, her window framed a view of the sunset from their lofty vantage point, a brilliant gradient of gold and orange, pink then blue, rising above the sprawling horizon of trees. She scooted herself to the edge of the bed to look more easily.

Thirty-seven light-years between Sol and Delta Plialdon was a jump that had taken hours at most, a course set by EDI — who took what data she had, made a decision, and sent them here. But 37 light-years was a dangerously long jump for the FTL drive, one that couldn't be made without bypassing several layers of safety protocols and sacrificing power from backup reserves and other systems, some critical. They were actively restoring other computer systems, yet EDI remained unresponsive. It didn't make sense. Liara still had yet to learn the exact extent and mechanism of the damage, still had yet to hear the details of a plan to send FTL communication drones. If they couldn't undo the damage, then 37 light-years from Sol they would remain. As for offworld communications, there were too many possibilities to consider outside the bubble of safety that was their remote system.

"I just miss her so much," Liara whispered, turning her attention away from the wash of light and color outside the ship, its beauty muted and spoiled by the hopelessness that once again crept up to torment and choke her. She took a long, deep, steadying breath, her gaze coming to rest on a small vase of delicate purple flowers sitting on her nightstand.

"I know," Tali said, voice small.

Liara didn't look at her, idly picking up then setting down the objects on the nightstand, feeling their weight, their solid forms in her hand. The vase, a sturdy reusable water bottle, a data backup and storage device filled with digital media, a holographic clock base, a pot of microscale lotion. All familiar objects that felt somehow new.

"I assure you it's all there," Tali said with a friendly chuckle.

When Liara looked toward her again, Garrus was nudging her shoulder.

"Right…" Tali pulled something from her pocket, hiding it in her hands. She let out a tense sigh. "We found this under the bed."

Hooking one end of what Liara realized was a necklace chain between her fingers, she opened her hands, the chain spilling out with a delicate _clink_ as the pendant dropped.

Liara made a small whimpering sound as her throat closed.

It wasn't exactly a pendant.

"We put it on a chain because… we thought you might… want to…" Tali's voice became smaller and smaller.

Swinging like a pendulum at the end of the chain was a ring, a simple band at first glance, and although she could hardly force her eyes to focus she knew what she would find if she were to inspect it closely.

Liara bowed her head and Tali slipped the necklace over her crest.

"Don't lose hope, Liara."

Unable to speak, she nodded.

"It's almost 0900. We should head down now."

⁂

The elevator doors opened to the energy of overlapping conversations, echoing and noisy, emanating from the crew gathered as a mass in the center of the cargo bay, boxes of equipment and assorted tech encroaching on the usually open space.

Garrus, Tali, and Liara made their way towards the crowd, the eyes that wandered lingering on their approach, and on Liara specifically. She offered a subdued smile to a wheelchair-bound Joker.

At the outskirts of the group Kaidan stood beside a low stack of sturdy crates — presumably a makeshift platform — seemingly making casual conversation with Adams. He nodded, concluding the chat, and promptly stepped up.

"Alright, I believe we've got everyone here." He pitched his voice to rise over the remaining chatter. "Listen up!"

The scattered conversations dissipated.

"Now, I am well aware some of you are up to speed. Others have been more or less unofficially filled in as we've been waiting for an opportunity to gather _everyone_ here." He paused briefly, and Liara bristled at the buzz of thoughts and rumors flashing in the minds of those around her, their eyes and judgment a burning tickle at the back of her neck. "My goal is to lay out the facts and make sure we're all on the same page moving forward. I suspect there are a lot of questions. We will do our best to answer them."

A subtle drone of murmuring and whispering commenced. Liara tunneled her focus upon Kaidan.

"I want to begin by touching on the big questions: why we're here, where is 'here,' what's the damage, and what are we going to do about it." He counted each point on his fingers and continued to hold out the four fingers of his itemization as he scanned the faces gathered around his makeshift podium. As his eyes met Liara's, she looked down, staring at her knees. She ran her fingertips over a worn spot in the fabric, threads exposed in the beginnings of a tear.

"Once we wrap up, we all should not only understand what we're dealing with, but also have updated duty rosters for everyone. I realize it's been a little haphazard up until now, but we now have a better understanding of what happened."

He recounted the events leading up to their landing.

Those with the rank and security clearance would receive a detailed report upon the conference's conclusion. There was no reason she had to listen in here, knowing said report would be in her hands in an hour or two's time, the burning at her crest and the trickle of bitter remorse and embarrassment and hopelessness as the ebb and flow of muted voices wove through the silence between the paragraphs of his speech, so she shuttered her mind to the outside world.

The voice Kaidan commanded, the gathered crew restless and tense and shifting, the energy contained but buzzing, began to muffle as the cargo hold blurred around her.

Shadow crept in at the edges of her vision, pressing inward until inky silence enveloped her.

She sat in her chair, mind swaying in time with the slow, twisting currents of reality and not-reality.

⁂

"Are you sure you're going to be okay?" Tali asked, not for the first time since they'd made their way back to the crew deck. "You don't look so good."

"I really am fine." Liara leaned against the entrance hatch to her quarters, datapad in one hand, the other massaging her temple. "I am simply exhausted."

"That makes sense." Tali hesitated, sounding like she was going to add to her skeptical remark, but instead her tone shifted to an almost oddly formal politeness. "If there's anything you need, any problems with your hardware, you know how to reach me."

"Mmmm," Liara moaned, eyes closed, and palmed the door lock. The hatch sprang open and she stepped into her room. "I'll talk to you later."

The hatch sealed behind her before Tali could respond.

"Greetings, Dr. T'Soni," Glyph chirped pleasantly. "It has been —"

"Glyph, privacy mode."

"As you wish."

Liara stood motionless, spine crooked and shoulders hunched as if the datapad in her hand weighed her down, and stared at her shoes. The toe of the left one was scuffed. She remembered that. Her mind flashed a series of useless memory fragments as she involuntarily tried to recall what she'd run into.

She rocked back and forth, heel to toe, the cushioned rubber soles squeaking against the metal floor panels, arm dangling in front of her attached to that heavy datapad.

Gritting her teeth, she chucked it.

The datapad ricocheted off one of her servers — humming its peaceful, electronic drone — and clattered to the floor underneath her desk.

Her knees contacted unforgiving floor, the shocks of pain asymmetrical, and she collapsed fully, crumpling in a heap on her side, the ring on the chain around her neck clanging as it contacted the metal panels.

The memories of their final moments orbiting Earth started as a trickle. She didn't stop them, letting them surge forth until they fully consumed her, the imagined lurch of FTL as dizzying as if it were real, the scene unfolding, everything too vivid. The bulkheads groaned, her wall monitors rattled, mugs of stagnant half-drunk tea and coffee fell off the table and shattered on the floor, soaking a mess of clothes in haphazard heaps. And as her necklace rattled against the floor with the ship's vibration, her mind and body numbed as the vertigo overtook her, the bitter ache of panic and loss burning in her chest as potent as it had been back then, even now in the aftershocks that rocked her memory.

⁂

Liara imagined drifting in and out of sleep, very much awake, only half alert, running her fingertips over the cool floor.

She closed her eyes, then opened them again. Her hand ran over her textured blanket. She lay on her bed, a datapad with a dented corner resting centimeters from her face. She picked it up.

As promised, it contained an exhaustive report on their knowledge of the crash and the details of her new assignment.

Starting tomorrow, barring any health concerns, she would help catalog this region's flora, with priority given to potentially edible species. She'd begin with work she could complete in the safety of the ship — chemical analyses to run, samples to preserve, rudimentary taxonomies to develop — not yet cleared for the more physical demands of fieldwork.

_So I'll just have to sit around and wait for them to bring in weeds from outside._

Liara tossed the datapad aside and turned her gaze toward her window, summoning her omni-tool to turn off her already dimmed room lights. Her head was spinning, pounding, from the volume of information she'd tried to process, her mind slipping back to their final moments fleeing Earth with every line…

She cleared her thoughts. Breathed deeply, meditatively, despite the effort it took.

The sky outside was clear and dark and speckled with stars.

She brought up her unread messages.

  
Delivered: Today, 15:32  
From: K Chakwas  
Subject: Lab results

Liara,

I just finished running your samples from this morning. If you could please see me at your earliest convenience, there is a matter I would like to discuss in person.

-Dr. Chakwas  


⁂

"Please, sit down."

"Is there something wrong?" Liara sat on the examination table, not waiting for a response from the doctor. "I do not feel much different from a few days ago, yet I sense some urgency."

Dr. Chakwas nodded to Liara's words, though her expression was unreadable as she drew the curtain closed and glanced down at the report on her 'tool.

"I can't say anything is wrong, and this isn't about the state of your ekphersitis," she said, and Liara frowned, skepticism and apprehension growing. "I had been keeping my eye on something this past week — nothing that initially proved anything one way or the other, as it could have been a transient and benign variation of _your_ normal — but just today your levels peaked, confirming my suspicion."

"Suspicion of…?"

Dr. Chakwas gestured with the arm wrapped in the orange glow of her omni-tool. "I brought you in so I could run some new scans." She deactivated the display, meeting Liara's eyes and offering a smile more rueful than it was encouraging.

"Liara," she began, a hand gently touching her arm. "You're pregnant."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 9 [Widmanstatten pattern:](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Widmanst%C3%A4tten_pattern)
> 
> (Image from Wikimedia Commons) [return]


	10. Chapter 10

_ **9 February 2183** _  
_ **Normandy SR-1: Hong system, Armstrong cluster** _

At its core, it was a simple reflex as natural and automatic as breathing. 

Electrical impulses originating in her brain, traveling through complex lattices of neurons, and ultimately coalescing in her eezo nodes were not only the defining feature of her people's unique neurology, but the means of manipulating mass. At will, she could create a field, manipulate its shape, its position, its magnitude, effectively changing the mass of any matter within its influence.

With specialized neurology came a sense of time, of space, of memory enhanced to a degree unheard of in most other species — the only way to interact with the world she would ever know. In many ways, it was the very essence of what it meant to be asari.

It was difficult to imagine at times that others had no way to guard against falls, no ability to focus outward and sense the matter around them, no delicate influence over their own neurology — disconnected from the rest of the world and blind to themselves in a way she couldn't fathom. "All is one" was synonymous with siari, and though ideas and practice of faith were obviously diverse, it was in the ubiquity of biotics, just another facet of the asari experience, that led to its widespread appeal, if not as a religion, than as an overarching worldview.

To caress the very essence of another being, to experience her memories, to feel her deepest emotions, to swim within her consciousness — to touch her soul, if there was no better way to put it — was the lifeblood of her people, a means to experience life and a means to create it.

But with an innate ability to manipulate matter also came the potential to cause harm.

While it was one thing to turn these powers against an individual on a macroscopic scale, it was another thing altogether to become so adept at controlling fields that the uniformity of a lift could be transformed into the chaos of a warp. To sustain such an effort, to violently oscillate the strength and direction of arbitrary field regions, to actively destroy and dissociate matter at the molecular level — creating rifts and tearing piece from piece — took much more concentration and active training. It was to override both nature and instinct. Physics would favor continuity, and a conscience would hesitate to cause harm.

The hostile's hardsuit crunched under the blue aura of Liara's warp field — a beauty belying destruction, shimmering and iridescent — as the hum beneath her skin rose with the sustained exertion. Her vision sharpened, her awareness acute, honed in on the enemy before her but waning at the peripherals. She ramped up her effort. Tensing her body, gritting her teeth, the hum amplified to a buzzing vibration through her nerves as she focused on the suit's compromised integrity.

She unleashed a final burst of energy. White and neon blue lanced through her vision as shards of brittle hardsuit exploded outward, the sharp crack followed by thuds and splats nearly drowned out by the shouts surrounding her.

As Liara dropped her biotics, her field of vision widened, the cargo bay and its occupants once again fading into her awareness.

"Nicely done!" Kaidan said, walking toward the destroyed figure. Gel oozed through cracks in the hardsuit's torso, the helmet hanging limply forward, held only by life support cabling and a strip of the suit's flexible neckline. One arm lay grotesquely on the floor. Kaidan gave the false enemy a playful clap on its single intact shoulder, sending the head bobbing and the gel jiggling around the neck's exposed vertebral column, which jutted outward from the surrounding simulated skin, tissue, and muscle.

Wrex appraised Liara's work then turned to smirk at her. "Wouldn't wanna be that guy."

"That was incredibly satisfying, but —" She stopped to catch her breath, bending over to pick up her energy drink. "Was it really necessary to model him so realistically if his sole purpose was to be so quickly… dismembered?"

"That's not realistic, kid. It's missing the arterial spray." Wrex snapped the helmet — and the "head" inside — free from the rest of the armor with a triumphant _ha-hah!_

"Goddess, that's barbaric."

"It's survival," Kaidan said reasonably, stifling a laugh as Wrex attempted to pry open the helmet's front. "In a combat situation, it's you or them, and suffice to say I think we'd all much rather it be them. The adrenaline would lower your inhibition and heighten your electrical peak, so in the field, you'd be looking at something even more explosive."

"It's no fun unless you spill some intestines." Wrex popped off the protective visor and had a hand digging inside the helmet before the glass clattered to the floor. "You squeamish, T'Soni?"

"No," she said truthfully, if a little breathlessly, and took a drink from her bottle. "Can I do that again?"

Wrex guffawed.

"We only had one unsalvageable hardsuit for you to destroy this time," Kaidan said once Wrex's laughter had died down. "But we've got a small army of gel guys in storage if you're in the mood to wreak some additional havoc."

"Eviscerate," Wrex echoed deviously.

"Fuck shit up," came the deadpanned addition behind her.

"Shepard!" Liara yelped, spinning around at the same moment Wrex tossed a fake eyeball in an arc above her, which Shepard caught.

"Grisly," Shepard said, merging with the group. She winked at Liara before throwing the eye toward Kaidan as hard as she could. He jerked out a reflexive hand to catch it. "Just offal!"

"You're hurting me, Shepard." Kaidan shook his head and groaned, studying the eyeball in his hand. "And I don't mean with project-eye-ls." 

Shepard briefly doubled over in silent laughter before shooting finger guns at Kaidan.

Liara looked toward Wrex, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugged. "Lost in translation."

"So what'll it be, Liara?" Kaidan said, still shaking his head with amusement at Shepard. "You up for more?"

"I think she should save her energy," Shepard suggested, hands on her hips, her focus on Liara. The faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

It was the very faintest hint, but the effect was electric. Perhaps Liara was only imagining it, momentarily frozen, unsure of where to focus her wandering eyes.

Shepard pulled off the cooling towel draped around her neck and wiped her face. Liara's eyes flicked from the quirk of her smile, her expression warm but otherwise neutral, then to the gash in her left eyebrow, made more obvious by the pull of the towel across her face, sweeping the hairs out of place. And there it was again, that depth in her eyes, dark blue like her shirt — or were they gray? Brown? 

Liara pulled herself back, widening her area of awareness.

"I've already said I think she's ready." Kaidan gave an agreeable shrug as Liara forced herself to look away from Shepard.

"I'll be going planetside again?"

"To tear up some geth," Wrex shot over his shoulder, rummaging through the supply lockers.

Contemplating the fake eyeball again, Kaidan added, "It's less gory, them being machines and all."

Liara looked back to Shepard, searching her eyes for that invigorating connection. Shepard tossed the towel back over her shoulder, the smile that brightened her face and eyes sending a wave of swelling, burning tension through Liara's chest, trapping her breath.

Liara averted her gaze, pushing away the images of Shepard, the flush of exertion and the sweat that dampened her hair, stained the compression shirt that hugged her compact figure —

"Give it some thought," Shepard offered with a tap on Liara's upper arm. "But let's get you fed either way."

Liara barely opened her mouth to protest when Shepard interjected, "Combat biotic," and began guiding her in the direction of the elevator with gentle pressure on her shoulder. "Looks like the first wave is heading up for lunch, and you're joining them."

She didn't turn around once she felt her hand fall away.

She did turn around when, almost to the elevator, Shepard shouted her name. "Liara, hold up! Catch!"

Whipping around, Liara found Shepard standing near Wrex at the supply lockers, preparing to toss an energy bar. Her throw veered wide, and Liara honed her biotics, slowing the bar's trajectory and pulling it toward her with a wave of her hand. Suppressing a breathless chuckle, she turned herself around and proceeded to the elevator before she could accidentally let her attention linger too long on Shepard. Again.

As the elevator door closed and she found herself surrounded by the chatter of her shipmates — all human — that buzzing tension crept into her chest again. It wasn't a standard nervousness, that tugging on her heart toward the cargo hold as the elevator ascended, growing tauter with every meter she traveled. Despite the odd nervousness, her lips tried to curl into a smile. She fought to keep her face neutral. Tried to cool her mind. Tucking her bottle under one arm, she set to unwrapping her energy bar as a distraction.

Coincidentally — and she couldn't override the mysterious urge to smile, then — it was her favorite flavor, actually on the enjoyable side of "just edible."

If the elevator's occupants intended to converse with her, she made it difficult with her cheeks stuffed full and her mind still wandering.

After a shower and a substantial lunch, she returned to her room.

Yesterday, Tali had helped her finish rendering an ultra-high-resolution scan of the data disc casing they'd picked up from the cave on Antibaar. With it, Liara could analyze its construction at her own convenience without risk of damaging it. The data disc itself would need to be dropped off to a laboratory with more sophisticated equipment and more skilled technicians.

Still, there was plenty to do. She had notes to take and sources to cross-reference.

Interactive model perched above her forearm, the world outside of holographic displays fell away as she lost herself in the details of the intricate technology, zooming in to note differences in this model compared to ones she'd seen before, both in construction and in state of preservation. She ran the composition of the alloy through her databases, hoping to place the artifact's origin on the Prothean timeline, its planet of origin. It would take time to generate the results of her search.

A knock at her door startled her out of her concentration.

Model still hovering above her arm, she stood and called out, "Come in!"

Liara sifted through her collection of tea packets as she glanced aside to see Shepard enter, the door sliding shut behind her.

"You're early today," Liara remarked, making her selection.

"Yeah," said Shepard, casually, leaning against the wall beside the door. She gestured to a chair as Liara continued her tea preparation, spooning the dried leaves into their compartment in her kettle. "May I?"

Smiling mildly, Liara offered a nod over her shoulder.

"Any progress with that hi-tech box?"

Liara resealed the tea packet and set it aside, raising her forearm and spinning the holographic model with a flick of her fingertips. "It's going quite well. It's been nearly five years since I've collected such a unique artifact." 

While the new rhythm of her life wouldn't allow for more traditional means of field study, where she'd stake out on remote worlds for months at a time, the breadth of her new exploration may more than make up for the depth she'd been used to. Not to mention it being much more cost-effective, as she was no longer responsible for paying her own way with her meager stipend.

Tilting her head toward her terminal, text streaming down the display as her search continued, she opened her mouth to voice another version of her thanks, but thought better of the unnecessary repetition. Maybe exercise and a hearty meal had lightened her mood, bringing out unexpected sentimentality for weeks past. A gratefulness for her rescue, for the opportunities she'd never imagined, for being shown such trust, such… kindness.

If she looked to meet Shepard's eyes now, she knew it would be like tipping over the edge of a precipice. She focused on her tea, topping off the kettle with a bit more water from her jug before flipping the switch to power it on.

Liara sat back down in her chair, the image from her 'tool still spinning above her arm and holding her attention superficially, though her mind wandered in the silence that stretched between them, filled only by the rising rumble of the water heating.

Fortunately, Shepard broke the silence, perhaps realizing Liara had been lost in thought and needed to be brought back to reality.

Or rather, Shepard's omni-tool broke the silence.

"Have you heard this song?"

Liara wrinkled her nose at the repetitive beat and simplistic tune, the language sung familiar to her without translation. She'd heard Shepard humming along, off-key, to unfortunately bland, familiar, and overplayed songs before, but this particular track was closer to home. "You cannot be serious."

"Uh, that was a 'yes' or 'no' question."

"No."

"I sense disdain regardless, so I assume you recognize the artist," Shepard said through a chuckle.

Liara scoffed. "'Artist.'" She emphasized the disdain in question if only to mask the more confusing emotions that swelled in her chest. Idly spinning the artifact projection, she said, "If there is one constant throughout the galaxy, it seems to be that sapient life will always manage to produce the most lackluster music and vids, and the masses will flock to them like their profundity is unsurpassed, but only until the next vapid entertainment comes along."

Shepard leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms. "That's harsh." Her smirk lessened, but only just so. Liara couldn't tell if she was genuinely offended, or if her response was in jest. "But she's popular for a reason, no?"

Liara rose from her seat to tend to the chiming tea kettle. "Her fame is manufactured, not earned." Picking up two cups from the stack and setting them aside, she added, "How did you become interested in Armali pop music, anyway?"

Shepard shrugged, singing along with Ina. It went without saying that her fame extended beyond asari space.

"And by the way, you're saying it wrongly."

Before Shepard could voice her protest, and only catching a brief glimpse of the way she held her mouth agape in mock offense, Liara interrupted, "Tea?" She poured some for herself, feeling a bit jittery even before the caffeine.

She raised her coffee mug. "I'm all set."

"I promise this one does not contain eezo," she said, allowing herself a slight smile, "and I've run the cleaning cycle on the kettle since the last time I made one that did. No cross-contamination."

Shepard leaned back in her chair, ankle on the opposite knee.

"Necessary precautions," Liara continued, collecting her teacup and sitting, frowning in response to Shepard's intensifying smirk, its ability to disarm and fluster her unnerving. "What?"

Shepard chuckled and shook her head, the source of her amusement cryptic. "I still much prefer coffee."

Liara glanced down at her omni-tool's display, wondering if the glowing, translucent, still-spinning Prothean artifact and her forgetfulness in deactivating it was in some way humorous to her. Or her distaste for pop music, regardless of its origin. Or was it in reference to the tea? Today's tea was Earl Grey, a variety she'd only tried after picking up various teas during their trip to Tayseri Ward. She didn't care to repeat exposing Shepard to eezo via Thessian teas, otherwise she wouldn't have offered her any. Less than two days later, that too still remained wholly unamusing to her, despite Shepard's flippant attitude concerning the risk.

Shepard's grin was almost contagious. "Nothing," she finally replied.

There was a flash of something wholly enigmatic in her eyes, gone before Liara could analyze it. The grin that replaced whatever depth of emotion that had been clear — or imagined, for only the slightest moment — Liara could only pretend to be aggravating. Only because it made her feel a certain kind of way, a sort of expanding menace of an emotion that slowed down time and gummed up her mind while nevertheless leaving her vibrating.

If she was going to feel this flustered, she probably didn't need tea.

She zoomed in to a representation of one of the ancient device's electronically controlled hinges, not seeing any of it. It wasn't until Shepard spoke, without humor, that she realized she'd also turned off the music.

"Hey, by the way, I didn't mean to make you feel like I was applying excessive pressure earlier today."

Liara's hand stilled along the display above her arm, and after a moment of indecision, she swiped the interface away on a long exhale. "You apologize for so much. I know what I signed up for."

Shepard smiled then, but it was weaker. "I suppose I halfway expected you to want to run away after what happened a couple days ago on Antibaar."

"And unless my memory fails me, which it never does, a couple days ago we had an almost identical conversation." She picked up her tea, furrowing her brow, suddenly biting back real anxiety. "Are you concerned about my place on the team?"

"No. You've just seemed a little on edge whenever I've seen you recently." She spoke quietly, matter-of-factly, studying her over the rim of her coffee mug. "Even now."

Liara froze momentarily before finding a semblance of calm. She was clearly overcompensating, her attempts to quell the rapid tides of new, confusing emotions ineffective, manifesting as agitation, standoffishness.

When had Shepard last seen her? Liara changed the subject quickly, tangentially. "You saw my warp today."

Shepard's smile returned, presumably in recollection. "Yeah, it was badass." Her expression brightened, as if she suddenly remembered something. "I'm beginning to think. Are you some sort of prodigy?"

It was as if she knew the question was ridiculous but asked anyway, in the most serious tone she could muster, knowing it would lighten Liara's mood — and it worked. Liara laughed, albeit under her breath, not quite knowing how to respond otherwise.

"No really!" said Shepard. "You keep saying 'Oh, I trained with my mom's commandos when I was younger, it's really nothing,' but it's not. You think I don't talk to Wrex and Kaidan to check in on your progress?"

Liara made a face, suddenly aware her cheeks felt hot again.

"Hah! See? That's your 'I know I'm a badass' face. Training aside, I can't imagine this doesn't come naturally to you."

"Outside of a few rare developmental and degenerative conditions, all asari are naturally biotic," Liara said from behind her teacup.

Shepard set her mug aside and crossed her arms, smirking. "You know what I mean."

"Yes, there is a genetic component."

"And a range of what's considered normal, right?"

"I see where you're going with this," Liara said coolly, still using her tea to obscure the smile she was fighting.

"Yeah, and?"

"Biotic training is a part of compulsory education throughout the Republics, as is screening for aforementioned medical conditions."

Shepard shook her head, chuckling. "You're deflecting. But now I'm imagining a bunch of asari teenagers — or the equivalent — throwing shit around in a school gym, trying to one-up each other."

"I can't claim that does not happen," Liara said, unable to suppress a flustered laugh. "What I'm trying to say is that a child's biotics will manifest naturally, but finer control is a learned process. And while strength and efficiency can be improved through training, one's peak at a given life stage is mostly determined by genetics."

"So you've got some good genes, then, maybe even from both sides." She paused at her own comment, then amended, her tone noticeably lower, "I remember correctly, you mentioned you never knew your father."

Liara took a sip of tea then set her cup aside. "No need to apologize, and you remember correctly. Oversimplification of reproduction aside… I never knew her. Still don't know who she is. Or was." She looked down at her cup, gently rotating it on the desk with her thumb and middle finger. "I stopped pressing my mother for details early in my adolescence. I knew her well enough to see beneath her exterior, and from what I gleaned, I do not think the relationship ended amicably —"

Liara pulled her attention away from fiddling with her cup, clasping her hands in her lap and looking abashedly at Shepard before lowering her gaze. "I'm sorry, I did not mean to blabber."

"Why would you apologize?" Shepard cocked her head an offered a weak smile. "You can tell me anything. I'm here to listen."

The simpleness with which Shepard spoke pained her, stirring up emotions she'd rather not acknowledge. Loneliness had never crossed her mind before. The absence of loneliness…

Liara thought of their lunch on the Citadel, recalling Shepard's old friend's slip-up given her change in surname. With the hesitation that came with making deliberate attempts at illuminating parts of her past, Liara hoped any question would be seen as innocent curiosity, turning the subject away from herself in conversational reciprocity, rather than probing. Her heartrate rose regardless, and her voice came out just above a whisper. "I don't think you've spoken of your family. Your father, did you know him?"

Given the direction of their conversation, Shepard couldn't have been surprised that she'd asked the question, but nevertheless, she seemed taken aback somehow. "For all intents and purposes, no," she said, leaning against the desk and resting her chin in her hand.

Liara picked up her tea again, waiting for her to elaborate. "What about your mother?" she asked, when Shepard did not. She had to suppress a grimace at her own forwardness.

Shepard shrugged. "To some extent. Not as much anymore."

Again, Liara pressed onward despite every meager social instinct she possessed warning her against it. "Yet you took her name, which I believe is nontraditional. I would be curious to hear the story."

If the question was too personal, it was too late to backtrack — Shepard's surprise manifested clearly that time. Liara should have expected that. _Should have_, if she hadn't blurted her thought without considering that it was a piece of information she had overheard, from a conversation she herself was not directly involved in, several weeks ago.

Panic rising, it struck her that Shepard may have no recollection of the conversation, the circumstances odd, but the conversation casual and vapid enough, to have slipped from her mind. Liara was sure the stereotype was exaggerated, but she'd heard plenty of times that these _humans_, newcomers to the new galactic order, had limited capability to retain information in their simple, short-lived brains.

Thankfully, Shepard did not ask the expected "How did you figure that out?" Instead, she answered only with a nod and a thoughtful, if skeptical, hum, though her stare seemed to intensify.

Liara preferred not to dwell on the moment, uncomfortable in ways that were unfamiliar to her, though she only had herself to blame. It almost made her queasy, and the memory tasted prominently of okra and eggplant — both perfectly good foods she would have otherwise looked forward to trying again someday, now spoiled.

Liara only briefly considered how to phrase her next question before accepting that Shepard was giving her all indications that she'd rather her not pry much further, though she hoped the task of finding an interesting enough topic worthy of changing the direction of their conversation wouldn't fall upon her. It didn't.

Shepard breathed deeply. "There's not much to tell," she finally said. A square of orange flashed on her wrist, and she glanced downward. "And what there is to tell will have to wait. Looks like we've got a transmission coming in at the QEC." She tapped the wristband to disable the notification, smiling apologetically as she stood. "I'll see you at dinner."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Shepard said, shedding the last of her aloofness. "I promise we'll continue this later."

As Shepard turned to leave, the door closing behind her, Liara became aware of the effort it took to breathe, that feeling she couldn't place or explain filling up in her chest again, like an unfulfilled anticipation, but this time, with a promise she'd have her curiosities answered when they next conversed one-on-one.

While Liara could count on Shepard's undivided attention during their private chats, outside of the med bay closet Liara strove to keep her glances at her discreet, her ear always tuned in to her conversation while she pretended not to listen.

Meals were an opportune time to practice this.

Sitting in her usual spot facing Tali at the end of the table, where it was quieter and less crowded, Liara calmed her outward appearances as Shepard found a spot several spaces over, finally having joined for dinner.

Not like Liara had been waiting for her to arrive.

"Meatloaf. My favorite," Shepard said, with obvious sarcasm, her tired joke prompting a few lukewarm chuckles and a single muttered "here we go again."

"Okay, real talk," Kaidan said, placing both palms flat on the table. "What do you have against meatloaf? Isn't it, like, the same as burgers? You like those."

"I just don't think meat should take the shape of bread. 'Loaf' implies bread."

"What about meatballs?" Ashley looked like she regretted asking as soon as she let the question slip.

Shepard set her fork down and spoke with authority. "Meatballs? Good shit. Kabobs? Good shit. _Meatloaf?"_ She paused, narrowing her eyes and somehow keeping a straight face despite the reactions of those around her. "Miss me with that shit!"

"So it really does come down to the shape," Ashley said, side-eyeing Shepard.

Kaidan shrugged. "Weird hangup, but okay."

"And I've never seen someone claim to hate a food so much but then appear to thoroughly enjoy it."

Shepard couldn't respond; her mouth was full.

"Liara?"

"Huh?" Liara snapped her attention back to Tali — the source of the voice directly across from her. "I'm sorry, did you say something to me? I was preoccupied."

"Yeah, you zoned out there for a minute and I wasn't sure if you were coming back. I just said I was heading back down to the cargo hold, if you wanted me to give you some of those omni-tool mods we were talking about yesterday."

"Right. I would like that."

When Liara rose from her seat after Tali, she caught Shepard's brief glance up at her, likely nothing more than a reflex, picking up on the movement, though her eyes seemed to bore into her, if only for that second. She was leaning in close beside Ashley, reading something she'd brought up her 'tool, their shoulders brushing as Shepard reached to point at something on the display.

Liara turned, heading the rest of the way to the galley to sort her kitchenware and deposit each into its designated compartment to be cleaned, trying her best not to let instinct tug at her, swiveling her head around to see what Shepard was doing.

It made her feel funny and she didn't know why.

She didn't have time to dawdle, Tali beckoning her along to the elevator.

⁂

It wasn't often that she found herself dreaming of home.

After her drift from Armali to Serrice, then to the galaxy at large, it was freeing, untethering, to let go of a past that weighed her down. Among asari, "home" may have a vast multitude of shifting meanings depending on whom you asked, and when. To Liara, "home" could be a nebulous concept at times, though she may admit, with resignation, that "home" may in fact be a single place.

Home: not Serrice, but indeed Armali. More specifically, the T'Soni beachfront estate where she was born and spent her formative years, never again to return after she departed for university against her mother's wishes.

While the familial ties represented at that Armali bay house were ever fraught, the location itself, Liara could admit, was one worth reminiscing: jagged, distant peaks rising like spears into the rainclouds above, or reaching up to a sky of brilliant blue, depending on the day. From the peaks, in more shades of green than there existed words even in her native Arlees, the geography rapidly sloped down to where it met the sea in stretches of rugged cliffs and sandy beaches, cradling the shining spires of the capital city amidst rolling hills and swaths of vegetation.

It was there, on the outskirts of Armali's metropolitan hub, on one secluded belt of soft sand set between rocky cliffs, that she grew up. In sleep or in consciousness she could reproduce the sprawling estate in her mind, with its elegant architecture, sheltered gardens, airy breezeways over the crashing waves as the outer rooms extended past solid ground and stood upon pylons rising from the water. She could put herself in her room again, lying on her bed as she gazed up at her skylight or beyond the glass doors leading to her balcony, the horizon crisp and clear where the sky met ocean. Closing her eyes, soothed by the rumble of the waves, the scent of flowers and brine and humidity was a fresh whisper on every comforting breeze.

In dreams, where the images ran together in quick succession and with questionable continuity, the effect was whimsical, peaceful, pleasant, as she relived snapshots of her past.

Diving off one of the estate's many docks, Liara plunged into the sea, the refreshing water rushing around her, bubbles trailing from her crest as she surfaced for a breath, salt on her lips and the glare of Parnitha in her eyes.

The next moment, she spilled out of a hammock, rubbing the last bit of residual sleepiness of an afternoon nap from her eyes as her feet contacted the balcony's smooth stonework.

Then, in one of the many breezeways perched above the water, Liara leaned against a railing, breathing deeply as the wind tickled her crest and an all-too-familiar laugh carried through the air at her left, gentle and full of contentment.

In that moment Liara knew she was dreaming. She could have pulled herself into consciousness, but she did not.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, not with unfriendliness, turning toward the source of the laughter, her right arm still draped across the railing.

Shepard's smile lessened but did not fade completely, retaining its warmth.

"Should I consider my invitation revoked?" She halted midstep, placing an elbow on the railing, the distance between them still two arms' length.

Liara shook her head and looked out at the horizon, sharp beneath a cloudless sky, before she returned her gaze to Shepard. Her expression was still warm, if hesitant, her smile asymmetrical and the close-cropped hair at her forehead whipping in the wind.

Sighing, Liara tried to find her words as a smile tugged at her lips, and she took one small step, then another, closing the distance between them and allowing a hand to drift away from her body, little by little, as she waited for the light brush of contact —

_No._

Liara woke with a sharp intake of breath.

Chest aching with the anticipation, the loss, the sudden snap away from the breezy, salty air into an atmosphere stale and dry and recycled, she sat up and rubbed her eyes, then her temples, trying to scrub away the dream. She wouldn't acknowledge it further. 

If she didn't acknowledge it, it didn't exist.

She packaged the errant thoughts and emotions and willed them to sink away deep within her mind where they'd be safe and forgotten. As long as she hid such strange ideas from the world — from herself — and didn't allow them to bubble up unexpectedly, they'd be of no consequence.

That was that.

She swung her legs over the edge of her cot and commenced her deep breathing exercises, preparing herself for the brand-new trials she was soon to face.

⁂

The march down to the cargo hold to don her hardsuit, then her helmet, complete checks, strap into the Mako, sit expectantly waiting for the cargo airlock to cycle, prepare for the drop — in some ways was easier than the time before, knowing approximately what she was walking toward, in some ways more difficult, because she could anticipate the obvious stress she'd soon be under.

But she channeled Shepard's calm, her presence grounding as she chatted with Joker over comms.

Like the time before, everything was a blur until they impacted the ground. They rushed toward danger. Liara assured herself she would be fine, over and over, overriding instincts telling her to retreat to safety as if that were still an option, strapped in the Mako as she was, their heading the geth base. Shepard bumped her shoulder with her knuckles, a playful reassurance. 

Liara would follow her lead.

Leaving the safety of the Mako's armored hull was again counterintuitive, trusting that her shields would absorb the impact of enemy fire, that her hardsuit would protect her from the hot and toxic atmosphere, that her biotics wouldn't fail her, that Shepard would know what to do.

Somehow, Liara knew she could trust her.

Liara hadn't seen Shepard with that focus, that culmination of grit and training, since the rescue from Therum, the fluidity with which she switched between running hacking suites and overloads on her omni-tool, shouting and signaling commands to her and Kaidan, leveling her pistol and picking off geth. It was like watching her body in motion three steps ahead of her conscious thoughts, everything instinct, everything natural despite its inherent destructiveness.

Liara's spine hummed as she peered out of cover, willing a singularity into existence, shifting her impulses to throw in a warp as her shields buzzed and shimmered but held strong. She ducked back into cover as the detonation rumbled, chunks of metal and cabling raining down when she dropped her biotics.

They cleared the base in less than an hour, the eerie silence that descended after the electronic chatter and the thunder of their weapons stopped unsettling, but relieving. The geth that lay inactive, mutilated, pulled apart, nearly unrecognizable — that was her doing.

In an unexpected and terrifying way, it felt good.

When they returned to the ship, no one having sustained as much as a bruise or scratch, she realized she'd survived her third excursion into what, only a few weeks before, she would have considered an unthinkably dangerous situation.

And this time, unlike the previous two, she had done so both wittingly and willingly.

For the remainder of the week, while the ground team finished their sweep of the cluster, neutralizing the geth threat, Liara spent her days pouring over ancient tech, finalizing her notes, holed up in the safety of her room when not at meals or PT.

And as promised, Shepard made time for her — continuing their dialogue, humoring Liara's curiosities, if reluctantly, if superficially. When she departed, leaving Liara to resume her work, to somehow refocus, Liara couldn't help but get caught up in a distracting part of her mind that spun relentlessly, begging for her attention.

It had been 30 days since her rescue on Therum, days she had assumed, while trapped in that stasis bubble with ample time to process imminent demise, would not exist for her.

And in a way, they didn't exist for _her_ — the version of herself that had entered the safety of that bubble. But whether that version of her had "died" on Therum, or at a later date, Liara didn't know. All she knew was that something was different, that since then, something had tinged the deepest essence of who she understood herself to be. But the influence, and what had caused the change, was still indistinct enough that she could not place it.

And that was only 30 days ago. For 30 days, she lived without the certain predictability she'd grown accustomed to for so long, the remoteness of digs, the monotony of excavation and research.

But for 30 days, there _was_ one thing she had learned to count on. Her meetings with Shepard had fallen into a comfortable daily pattern, continuing their conversational threads when they were often cut short, spending quiet time in each other's company. She found out many more things about her, piecing together the facts like a puzzle in her mind, then drawing back and seeing if the image formed was anything like the person she saw before her.

Shepard didn't like to talk about herself. But every now and then, a small bit of information would slip, and Liara would grasp onto it, covet that piece of information like a fragile trinket in her pocket, safe and secure and (hopefully) unnoticed until she could take it out and examine it further once she was alone. She pieced Shepard together like a shattered artifact needing tending to, its form reconstructed but its secrets still elusive, perhaps only to reveal themselves if she looked from another angle, or if the conditions were just right.

In public, Liara couldn't help but feel like every glance she took at the commander was stolen, her heart lurching if she heard her voice, her attention gravitating toward her involuntarily whenever she was around, her eyes trailing the definition of her form, compact and solid, under the drape of her clothes. Apart from her appearance, there was a magnetism, a unique air about her in the way she held herself, the way she moved through the world and the way she spoke, that seemed to fall more in line with the males of her species, at least at a glance (and from an alien perspective). Back behind closed doors, she showed Liara a striking gentleness, almost at odds with her behavior in public and her intensity in combat. But while she could be tender, her vulnerability was deceiving, superficial — an inherent dichotomy, honest yet reserved, like an open book with lines redacted.

In the privacy of the storage closet, for some moments — many more than Liara could logically account for — she momentarily forgot the fact that within Shepard's mind was a well of secrets transferred from the Prothean beacon on Eden Prime, and the simple details of Shepard's life took precedence. Things Liara knew she shouldn't pay any mind to. But such minutiae demanded her attention nonetheless, like tiny, exciting breakthroughs in her research as she observed the commander, all the while hiding behind a facade of nonchalance and academic objectivity.

As if, in place of uncovering important information, Liara would first have to chip away at the insignificant details, though they fascinated her just the same.

She drank a concerning amount of coffee (which likely resulted in an equally concerning caffeine dependency).

She didn't like meatloaf because meat shouldn't be shaped like bread.

She possessed an inordinate fondness for the most awful pop music that Earth, or Thessia, or Palaven, or anywhere in between, could produce.

She legally took her mother's surname, Shepard, around the time she turned seventeen. In most cultures on Earth, the child took the father's surname by default at birth, as was customary for whatever culture or semblance of a culture her family upheld in the peculiarities of a life in space. Nazari was her father's surname, a shortened version of what was originally Nazarian, she'd explained. But she stopped herself there, claiming she'd rather not bog down their conversation with discussions of distant and unsavory Earth history that Liara would have no context for or interest in.

Much to the contrary — and it seemed silly for Shepard to even suggest she wouldn't be interested — but again, she was giving all signals that indicated she didn't want Liara to pry, always trying to nudge the conversation into orbit around something other than herself. It probably wasn't _historical_ history, but family history, that troubled her still, hence her deflection. And though Liara could surmise Shepard didn't quite care for her father (to put it mildly), the reasons were again left to her imagination.

If Liara attempted to press further, teasing her about her many names, asking why no one ever called her Petra, seeking anything more about her life, her past, she'd always shrug off the attempt with a question of her own, or an absurd joke, or a tangentially related but far-less-personal factoid. Shepard seemed to be more interested in hearing Liara blather on about her own life, however bland, however ordinary. 

While Liara was happy to oblige, she couldn't quite keep the memories of her dream from bubbling back up, and her heart fluttered as she spoke.

Even after Shepard left, Liara still found herself vibrating, time and time again, unable to quickly transition back to the mindset of her research.

Was it the unusual quiet of the ship, engines powered down while they docked at the Citadel, that made it difficult to focus? No, this was something physical. She was shaking. Almost. 

It would probably be wise to dial back her tea consumption.

She sighed and summoned her omni-tool, then let out a small grunt of frustration. Her 'tool hadn't been working properly ever since she installed those mods with Tali, and the fixes she'd tried to run only caused more issues.

She brought up her messaging application and punched in Tali's contact information.

16 February 2183 15:21  
Start of message history

Liara: Are you still onboard?  
Tali: yep  
Liara: If it's not too much trouble, could you help me out with my omni-tool again?  
Tali: have you tried turning it off then turning it back on again?  


Liara rolled her eyes.

Liara: Of course I have.  
Tali: had to check! i can take a look at it  
Liara: Would now be a good time for you, or shall we schedule meeting at a later time or date?  
Tali: now is fine! come on down to engineering. i'm only idly running systems checks for the zillionth time.  


⁂

"What seems to be the issue?" Tali asked, sitting atop a sturdy stack of crates just outside the drive core room, perched at convenient eye level with Liara.

"I've been having trouble with it ever since I installed those mod packages you gave me."

"Here, I'll start a remote session. Just tap 'confirm' to authorize, and I'll take over from my end."

The pop-up appeared, and Liara confirmed the switch, watching the windows mirrored on her own display as Tali familiarized herself with Liara's omni environment.

Tali hummed in amusement. "I'm surprised you're not on the Citadel. Didn't you and Shepard have a nice date last time?"

Liara scoffed, grateful that from Tali's point of view, her face was obscured behind the wide holographic projection. Her cheeks felt hot. "It was not a _date_," she managed to stammer. "I had important errands to run, especially picking up and _paying for_ my armor, and she needed to be there for that."

"She couldn't have just transferred the funds?" Tali didn't look up from the display. "It's not like it was coming from her personal account once she listed you as officially contracted."

"It wasn't a date," Liara repeated, perhaps too defensively.

"I didn't mean any offense! I'm glad you had such a nice welcome. I was just teasing mostly." Peering through the holo, Tali lowered her voice. "'Wide eyes aglow,' if you know what I mean."

Fully understanding, a hot, embarrassing dread rose in Liara's chest, crept up her neck, and bloomed in her cheeks and across her crest as a radiating flush. "I'm not sure I want to know," she said, pretending to be entranced watching Tali's rapid work play out on her own screen.

_"You know,"_ Tali continued much to Liara's dismay, playful lilt in her voice and all. "Googly eyes."

Liara glowered at her, her lips pulling into an intense frown.

"What? It's not like it isn't obvious you have a crush on her."

In response to Tali's volume — and the lack of ambient noise with the engine powered down — Liara glanced over her shoulder to check for potential eavesdroppers before turning back to her. "I assure you, you are mistaken."

Tali stared at her.

Liara huffed. "I do not have a crush on Shepard." The words rang hollow as her chest tightened, but she said them with conviction.

"Oh okay," Tali said, sounding disappointed, maybe skeptical — even abashed. "If you say so."

She remained silent, fingers flying over the haptics, as Liara watched her tinker. "Looks like there was a conflict with a few of your other programs, and something with the install went awry. Easy fix. I'll get it started for you."

Liara opened her mouth to thank her but closed it once she saw the way Tali's eyes crinkled in a smirk. Her frown deepened.

Tali chuckled. "Okay, I'll drop it. For real this time."

"Thank you," Liara said, for both the troubleshooting and the teasing being finished.

"Nooo problem."

Tali finished the work in silence, Liara shifting her weight from foot to foot, eyes darting from her omni-tool, to the elevator, to Garrus making repairs on the other side of the hold, to the workout equipment, stowed in a corner, to the elevator, to —

"Seriously Liara, I only meant it as a joke. I didn't realize it'd rattle you this much."

Realizing she'd likely been scowling, her emotions as clear as water whether she intended it or not, Liara softened the tension in her brow. "Jokes," she said, with a nervous laugh out her nose, her lips pressed together. "It would seem that's the universal language here."

"Looks like we're all set. Your omni should be good as new."

"I've put much time into customization, so I would hope not _new_."

Tali waved away her display, relinquishing control of Liara's system. "You know what I mean," she said, with friendly humor.

"Thank you again." Liara offered a nod and a smile, turning toward the elevator.

"Anytime. And Liara?" she called out, still perched on her makeshift seat. "Don't be a stranger!"

The elevator door shut, the vibration of the ascent seeming quieter than usual without the rumbling backdrop of the drive core. Liara maintained her placid smile, held her hands behind her back, breathed in, then out, in even intervals. When the door clamored open, her heart lurched, but thankfully, Shepard wasn't there. 

Why was she so concerned she might be?

She greeted the crew heading back down, projecting nothing but coolness and calm as she shuffled across the deck, through the med bay (thankfully, Dr. Chakwas wasn't in, otherwise she may have suspected a fever with the flush of her cheeks), into the storage room. Solitude, finally.

The door shut behind her and she sat on the edge of her cot, tapping her feet in a rapidly alternating pattern.

It was fine. Tali was only joking. 

She straightened her posture and stilled herself, planting the soles of her shoes on the floor, filling her lungs with dry refiltered air. But when she breathed out, she slouched again.

"I do not have a crush on Shepard," she said to her shoes, to the floor, to test the strength of her mumble in the dim quiet of her room. She balled her hands into gentle fists. "I do not…"

The words caught in her chest, a rising, swelling tension wrapping her ribcage as her heart drummed on without regard for her sanity or her calm.

It was the same energizing rush that could be prompted by that smirk of Shepard's, just shy of cocky; the way she so casually posed herself in chairs and leaned against walls; the glint in her eyes, infinitely inviting, full of depth and intrigue and —

_"I do not —"_

She slumped forward and buried her face in her hands.

**Author's Note:**

> I am always open to feedback and criticism of both my art and my writing, either here or [on Tumblr](https://1esk19.tumblr.com/ask).


End file.
